Summer is typically a tough time to make plans. Mostly because so many plans hit the table, without enough empty slots to accommodate them. While most of these plans are social and welcome, it's the downtime that gives pause for my mind to wander and obsess about the Seattle gig. I've been lying to myself. Tricking myself to believe this is not taking so long. Once I realized the self inflicted denial, I started to feel exhausted from the anxious, excited feelings. There's nothing I think about more.
You should see my closets. Considering a possible move, I've been boxing up non-essentials for months. I love organizing, so even if I don't get the gig, I'll be happy to have things tidy. Five garbage bags later, I can see the back of several cabinets, have consolidated plastic tubs, and have separated myself from so many "One day" items. Cleaning and organizing is a welcome side effect to having anxious feelings.
I should be painting the molding, fixing the closet door, putting some wood putty where the dog chewed the cabinet, and caulking the tub. These were the first chores I considered when first applying for the job, since selling the place would go smoother after tended to. When was that first interview? April? Let me check ... March 18th was my first phone interview. That's over four months ago. Or eighteen weeks, or one-hundred-twenty-six days, or three-thousand-twenty-four hours, or one-hundred-eighty-one-thousand-four-hundred-forty minutes, or ten-million-eight-hundred-eighty-six-thousand-four-hundred seconds.
Considering this, it's excusable that I've found premature preparatory chores to keep my brain busy. Especially since I haven't even applied for the job yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment