Sunday, December 13, 2015

A Light at the End of the Tunnel? Maybe . . .

The reason I have not been loyally posting as I have for many years is that my job hunt has suddenly picked up speed.

It only took twenty three months, tens of thousands of emails, false leads, a couple rabbit holes, and several bizarre interviews for my hunt to possibly bear fruit. Naturally two prospects have come at once. And, I have made the short list for both positions. One would put me in Charleston - my dream location, but with little pay - a pauper in paradise. The other would put me Richmond, a city I have spent much time in, close to many of my good friends, at a much more comfortable salary. 

Of course neither of these jobs have been offered to me. In the next few days I could find myself with a lump of coal and back to square one - still unemployed. The waiting is painful. The waiting is stressful. The kicker is that both jobs start January 2 and either would require relocation. And we have the holidays thrown in there. Do I get excited over a move to a new place of my own? Do I start dreaming of where in the my new living room do I place my mother's antiques that I never thought I would get to enjoy? Or, am I to be a kill joy and assume neither will be offered to me?

For once I will live in a dream world and enjoy the fantasy. If both fall through I will resort, as I always have, to drugs and therapy. As Dusty Springfield sang so well, "Wishing and hoping and thinking and praying, planning and dreaming . . ."

Meanwhile, I am sure you have the first question everyone else has, "Is your DH moving with you?" The answer is no. And the second question, "Is there a problem?" The answer is no, we decided a while back that since I could not find a suitable position close by and we desperately needed benefits, that I would expand my job search far and wide. Should something become available in another location, so be it, I would relocate. We would just have a long distance marriage. Who knows, distance may make the heart grow fonder.

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