What? I have a job interview. In an effort to get out of Dodge before the new sheriff shoots me down (bang bang) I took a punt on a different job - it would put me in charge of a Department for the same money I'm on now but without also doing the job of co-ordinating the whole place four times a year or more. The money is a good thing, but I'd miss the organising, I quite enjoy that art of my job. I like where I am, I just hate the stress and the messing about with support.
My worry is twofold: I'll fail the interview (not an unlikely prospect) or I'll succeed and end up taking the job, as is my wont, and then I'll hate an entirely new job where I'll be pressured and hounded again because I'm still a mess and not fixed.
Still, I spent tonight preparing, meaning work due for tomorrow is not done (c'est la vie, ne pas?) and I haven't finished writing the next part of Relaity/Shifts, which was my other goal.
My mother rang, unhelpfully. My boss was delighted to hear of my interview and pulled out all the stops to be helpful and facilitate my planning. At least I can now confirm what the purpose of all the support shenannigans has been. And my mother just refused to listen on the phone. I told her all, well, mostly all the reasons for my therapy and she just asked what I needed to fix - in her opinion Tilly doesn't work enough. I very nearly scorched her with my tone. Tilly works bloody hard to look after the family, I'm not having her have to take a job as well... Okay, no, it's more a case, so Tilly tells me and she's right, that she can't work because that would stress me out. The last time she took a job after our daughter was born was a disaster because I simply could not cope with looking after our daughter for four hours on a Saturday and Sunday. I was an absolute wreck after about a month and after three Tilly quit.
I'm good at big gestures, I'm shit at routines.
So. A job interview. What the fuck is going on?