January 27, 1999
Right Back To Horizontal

I'm back ... but only until the Aleve kicks in. Then I'm right back to horizontal.

I feel like I've been gone for weeks.  For the past four days my entire universe has been a small dark bedroom and a sweaty mountain of blankets: this morning, as I cautiously move around The Castle, the whole world seems painfully bright and busy and LOUD. I am experimenting with varying levels of activity (read this: I'll be laying on the sofa instead of the bed), and hoping that my head  --  which is attached to my neck by the flimsiest of tethers at the moment  --  doesn't snap loose at the first stiff breeze and float off into the whereversphere ...

We've run out of coffee. This apparently happened on Saturday, but we were too sick to notice ... or to care. That alone tells you how ill we've been. David relapsed over the weekend, so for at least a little while my misery enjoyed some company. Basically we lay side by side on the bed, *enjoying* tandem comas. At one point we actually flipped a coin to see who would crawl the ten and a half feet to the kitchen for more juice. It was a weirdly intimate experience: I guess that nothing says *love* like hacking up a lung together in shared bedspace.

I've been so out of it, the past four days, that I haven't had time to think about the usual day-to-day stuff  ... like running out of coffee, or combing my hair, or checking my e-mail ...

... or wondering whether or not I'm going to hear back from the company I interviewed with last Friday.

But now that I'm on the mend -- more or less -- I'm right back to my usual level of obsessive/relentless/all-consuming/fingernail-obliterating anxiety. (About the job, anyway. I can worry about combing my hair next week.)

Thing is. I was so nervous about that interview  --  specifically, about what I was going to wear, and whether or not I could convince the interviewer that I was this fabulously competent, qualified, slickly-professional candidate who almost never spills coffee on herself  --  that I was shocked by how well it went. Or at least, *I* thought it went well. I remembered to spit my gum out in the elevator. I didn't fall down in front of anyone important. No one ran screaming from the conference room during the interview ... including me. Good *vibes* were flowing all over the place.

"We'll be making a decision sometime next week," Mr. Interviewer Person told me, as we shook hands at the conclusion of the interview. I came home feeling pretty darned pleased with myself  ...  positive that the phone would shortly be ringing, and it would be Mr. Interviewer Person saying "Oh the heck with it -- we don't need to see those other two applicants. Can you start tomorrow?"

And then I got sick and forgot all about it. Until now.

(She glares at a silent, uncooperative telephone ... )

I'm not pinning all my hopes on this one job prospect, of course. I've got two more interviews coming up next week, and now that I'm off the critical list I'll start throwing out the résumés again. (I literally slept right through this week's new Help Wanteds.) But I don't mind admitting that this is one job I would really like to get. It seems like a perfect fit, skillswise/commutewise/moneywise: plus I'd get to ride in a really cool elevator every day. And I will also admit that part of me is going to to be disappointed if I don't get it ...

... but only a small part of me. I keep reminding myself that every interview  --  even the ones that are *just for practice*  --  is bringing me that much closer to The Right Job. (She says, determinedly ... stoically ... bravely ... dive-bombing under the desk again to make sure the phone is plugged in.)

That's about all the *juice* I have for today, frankly. The Aleve is kicking in: I can feel the headache beginning to blur a little around the edges. I can probably manage to crack open a book and read for awhile without shrieking in abject agony or anything. (Or maybe I'll just curl up on the sofa and glare hatefully at the phone some more.)

In the meantime ... don't forget to click here to check out the latest Edmund-"The-Day-The-Comedy-Died"-Kaz update. Basically: he's gonna keep doing it until he gets it right.

I'll be back when I'm back.



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