Cicatricia: Day Two Hundred Fifty-Nine

A holy shit sort of day.

I am now doubly employed.  And will be until I tender my resignation next week when the now old boss (so bizarre and surreal to think about these things with time qualifiers that can just shift arbitrarily) returns from vacation.  My last day should be Halloween.  The biggest thing in my life and nobody can know in a town where everyone knows everything, or thinks they do and everyone can hold a handful of razors more easily than they can a secret.  I’ve mentioned this every day for a week since I’ve mentally made my decision to accept – what I had understood but not absorbed – this job offer on a silver plate.

I think for the first time today, though, I got the whole reality.  If I do this, I’m not having the life I currently have.  The way I spend my day will change, the people I talk to, the tasks I deal with, my access, my comfort, my paycheck, my status, my freedom…none of that will be the same. Done and done.

And as a result, for the first time in months, a real, legit driving panic attack while driving to the interview.  I knew what it was, and I knew the reason, which, I guess helped minimize it.  For a half second, though, as I was going through the motions and desperately willing the light to turn green, the major freak-out was that I wasn’t even going to be able to make it there.  And nobody could help me and what was this saying.  I pulled over into a Walgreens parking lot, bought some gum and chewed it until my hands stopped shaking.  I told myself I could do it and because I left plenty early, I could pull over as much as was necessary to get myself to the new workplace as possible.

I did eventually get there and have enough time (though not as much as I had planned) to compose myself and had a good conversation in the giant offices with the new boss.  I felt like I asked pertinent questions and she complimented my tights.  She was pretty giddy when I said yes.

There will, necessarily, be a lot less work talk here since I will be working at the same place as my sister.  Maybe.  I will have to see what feels appropriate.  Maybe it will force me to generate more fiction-based content.  Work on the book.  I have thoughts for next year here on this blog – for year 5, but nothing concrete.

Tomorrow: breakfast meeting and then shut the door and work my balls off.  That’s the plan.  Ladyballs.  Okay.  Whatever.  I’m tired and happy and irritated as fuck with the end result of MasterChef (which really needed more of Joe savaging people with his icy stares) and less of…well, you’ll see if you watch.

*Sorry about yesterday, I swore it posted, I looked at the final post and didn’t see anything about a draft.  But if you weren’t aware, then, I guess…well, you are now.  And now we’re back on track, I think.  Haven’t forgotten my DragonCon posts, I just, am giving myself some slack with that.

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One comment on “Cicatricia: Day Two Hundred Fifty-Nine”

  1. Congratulations! The wheels are now turning. :)

    I was also pissed off with the end result of MasterChef. :(


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