Well damn. I seem to have gotten myself a job. Seriously, what? Are all my planets aligned or something? If so, when will my pony be delivered? I guess I should back up a bit. Remember how I wrote this in my last entry?

Remember that other interview I had? The one with the slightly bitchy boss who said she was going to have to "think about it" at the end of my second interview? Yeah, I guess she's still thinking because that was a month ago and I've not heard a peep. I got a weird vibe off her anyway. Also, one of the women who worked there was desperately trying to get a job at the other place I interviewed, so maybe that should tell me something. Hmph.

Right, well, she called me on Thursday and talked and talked and talked about what the position entails. I finally had to ask if I was actually being offered the job and yes, as it turns out, I am. She said she'd email me an offer letter on Friday and then I could think about it over the weekend.

Friday was a crap day. It poured down rain and I was busy as hell at work. And the letter didn't come. I suffered through the day and then raced off in the pouring rain to meet with our lender and set up the mortgage stuff for the house. By the time I got to the lender's office I was in tears (God, I'm always such a freaking crybaby, aren't I?) because my day had sucked and the traffic was awful and it was still pouring out and I was late and goddammit the letter never came. And cow bells. The fucking cow bells, man.

Anyway, the mortgage stuff went fine and I calmed down and watched a movie* with Kenny and drank a beer and then, at 10pm, checked my email. The letter had arrived. The offer is decent (not fabulous, but decent) and the job sounds interesting. Not sure about my boss yet and I'm surprised to find that my main emotion in all of this is terror.

I know, cry me a river. Months of whining about not having a job and now I get one and I'm scared? But listen, I haven't used my brain in a creative work capacity since last January. Not January, 2003, the one before that. Damn, I know. My head is full of fluff! It's full of Justin Timberlake lyrics and bike stuff and "Newlyweds: Nick & Jessica". (speaking of, totally check out Shelley's excellent recaps!) So yeah, I'm scared.

And yes, I'm damn glad that next week is my last week in the loan center (can you fucking believe that?), I'm still a little scared to leave it only because the known hell is less scary than the unknown hell. It'll all be fine, but what will I do without the Spirit Council? Without Milton in shorts? Without the daily Disney-themed fashion show? It's all grown on me, just a little bit. I've become accustomed to it's cow bell face. (Wow, that didn't work at all, did it.) Anyway, I've always got the loan center to fall back on, a thought horrible enough to keep me moving forward, for sure. Oh, and my sister pointed out today that I narrowly miss being there for a year. By, like, an hour. Fantastic!

So, to further my fear, there's a catch with this new job offer. Why the hell can't I get a normal offer like everyone else? Noooo, mine comes with a mandatory one week business trip to North Carolina. With my new boss. Someone hold me? I fear business travel, mainly because my only experience with it involved the Midwest, a plastics factory and food poisoning.

Oh, and hahaha, guess when this trip is? When else? October.

Basically, my next seven weeks look like this:

week 1: last week at the loan center (!!)
week 2: vacation in New Mexico (!!!!)
week 3: start new job
week 4: more new job
week 5: business trip
week 6: pack like fucking crazy
week 7: close on house and move

This is more activity than I have in the average year, folks. Yeah.

PS. A friend said "you'll be in the house just in time for Halloween! You'll have trick-or-treaters!" I gave her a weary look and said I'd be more likely to lob apples at them, being as we'll still be moving shit in. I'm such a bad sport.

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*We rented "Confessions of a Dangerous Mind" starring my favoritest actor, Sam Rockwell. He was so damn good in this movie and you get to see his ass a lot. Go rent it and make Sam a star. Do it for me. (confidential to Sam: I'm still waiting for that phone call, baby.)

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