Moving

On a plane in just under 12 hours.  Moving back to England.  Very tired.  Puppy asleep in bed next to me.  For I will miss her very very very very very much.  But I will be with the boy, who I miss in equal amounts.

I think I'm starting a new phase in my life.

Slightly drugged out (thank you anti-anxiety and motion-sickness drugs) and quite sleepy.

Goodnight.

So that's that, then

In September of 2008 I applied for a job as an Administrative Assistant in the Eugene City Manager's Office.  21 January 2009 I get a phone call about 6:30 at night.  They wanted to schedule me for an interview.  For a job I applied for 4.5 months earlier.  They wanted the interview for the following day (because 4.5 months wasn't a long time to wait, but 48 hours, yeah, that was).  So I went, and nailed it.  That was a Thursday.  I was supposed to hear by the following Wednesday.  I did not.  On Thursday at 4:55 I was called and told that I wouldn't hear until early the following week.  I just got off the phone and was informed that over 160 people applied, and only 10 were interviewed.  I was not hired.  But I should be proud and keep applying.  Yeah, that's great, but not really.  I'm moving in just over two weeks.  And positions don't exactly seem to open up over there very often.  So really, rather an empty statement.

I don't want to denigrate the person who called me.  She was very nice, and probably not thrilled to be making the negatory calls, and I think she was sincere.  But this whole thing has been so goddamned emotionally frustrating.  First I had to get all prepared to move back to England, and I did.  Then this came up, and the possibilities changed.  Then there was the initial letdown, then the "no, we still haven't chosen" and then I was at least back to balanced.  And now I know again that I'm moving.  But I hate that I've not had a regular, permanent job since 2005.  And Adam and I could have had a comfortable existence here, albeit not much more comfortable than there.

So I guess I'll write after all.  And my plans are made and it's ok.  But it's still frustrating.

Why won't the Fates stop messing with me?

More on this next week when I can write more.  But seriously, I swear that higher powers, fate, whatever just like confusing my life for fun.  Remember boys and girls, it's not paranoia when they are actually all out to get you.

And in a slight bit of funny/sad news, Faith got her head stuck under my bed today.  I'm not quite sure how it got under there in the first place since her nice bed with walls is in my room this week.  Yet somehow, it did, and then when she woke up she couldn't remove it, I think because her head first went over the side of her bed, and then under my bed frame.  So that was a bit exciting for a moment.  But then she freed herself.  And looked very confused when she finally appeared.

I'm on my way...

I cannot deny that I'm excited to be moving back to the UK and to live with the boy.  Since I've made that decision, I've had to make a rather large number of other decisions.  The first one takes effect tomorrow, and I view it as a mixed blessing.  Because Greenhill needed to provide firm dates for my replacements (instead of the vague "end of January, beginning of February" that I had been feeding them), last week was my last week doing the KEZI Pet of the Week gig.  I'm sad that I no longer will be spending time with doggies who need homes, but it is nice to not have to get up at 5:30am.  And I do have a wonderful puppy of my own (who's asleep in my bed next to me right now).  Even so, it's a little sad knowing that I won't be actively working (in this way) to help these wonderful dogs get homes.

In other news, an early happy birthday to my mother, who turns an undisclosed age on Wednesday (her birthday present from me is cocktails at a local martini bar and parts to fix the dishwasher...lame, but what she wants), and also happy birthday to my darling Faith, who turns 3 right around now.  The real date for us to celebrate her is July 24, which is when she first came to live with us.  But happy birthday to both of them :)

Oh, and if I liked babies half so much as I love, adore, and dote on Faith, I'd be a fantastic mother.  Too bad I dislike babies.  Kids aren't quite so bad.

"Irony's a Bitch" Strikes Again

So in another sign that the universe is out to get me (it's not paranoia when it's true), I got offered a job today.  But I'm moving in a month or so now, which means I can't in good faith take the job (and the guy who offered it to me is really cool, so I won't lie to him).  Were the job guaranteed full-time and enough money to support two people, I probably would have taken it, and presented Adam with a fait accompli, but the current offer wasn't enough.

As for the job, it would have been working in the fry kitchen (ie making fish and chips) of a fishmonger's.  I'm sure there are a lot of people saying "ew! gross!" but it's a great organization, and the pay isn't bad.  Also, the people are really great there.  There's also the additional possibility that the owner would eventually move me over to the retail side.  When he interviewed me back over the summer, he told me that he wanted to hire me to work with the cheese (yay!) but there just wasn't the business right then.  Which sucked for him (and me, obviously), because he generally has a policy of hiring good people when he gets the chance so they don't slip away.

All that said though, the good news is that he remembered me when another position opened up, and also asked me to check back in when I get back in the summer.

And in short, the reason why irony strikes again is because I got offered a job working in the cattery at Greenhill Humane Society last year.  They called literally 2 days after I accepted the internship down in Death Valley.  Unsurprisingly, they didn't want me buggering off for 5 weeks.  That also wouldn't have offered enough money to support the two of us, but I was interested.  Ultimately, that turned out for the best though, as I discovered soon after I'm rather allergic to cats.  Not so cool, working all day with cats when you scratch yourself into hives.