It's been a pretty insane week, that's just all I have to say about it. I got a job, and hope to start week after next (it's at a place involving children, so a criminal background check has to be completed before I can actually start). I also found a sublet that is a) cheap b) nice c) in a ridiculously quiet neighborhood. It does come with a roommate, which will be interesting, but it doesn't sound like she'll be there much. After so much grief over the past six months, I am just so happy and thankful for these two small miracles. I also have that feeling of the shoe dropping at any moment, but I'm trying to ignore it. (Possibly at my own peril.)
And now, I am writing this from Tom's house, with the Chloe dog sitting next to me - he was kind enough to let me set up camp in one of his many spare rooms for the next week. With the job and apartment set (move in next weekend), I actually get a whole week of vacation, and I'm looking forward to taking some day trips, getting my hair cut (finally), sleeping a lot, knitting, and watching tv.
Yesterday I turned 37, and it wasn't half as bad as last year - recall that I spent my 36th birthday home alone, sticking address labels on brochures for a conference I swore I would never manage again. (And I didn't.) This year, I had a small party with my nieces, nephew and sister on Wednesday night before I left, and then last night T. took me to dinner where I got impossibly drunk from one glass of wine. I came home, put on pjs, watched LOST, and fell dead asleep. Very content, which is kind of a nice change of pace.
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