I took many, many deep breaths yesterday and tried to turn down the job in New Orleans. Then I got the email from the nice guy who would have been my boss. The relocation money wasn't a joke, exactly, but it wouldn't have covered the moving expenses and the terms they wanted to pay it on would have given me some serious crunch in the finances. So I sat down this morning and wrote down all his numbers, left messages on all his voice mails, and answered his first prompt callback of this whole process. He was very nice and asked me to refer anybody who was already down there that I found out about and I told him I was going to a meeting next week and would definitely ask around.
Wow.
I coulda been a contender.
A contender who had to self-move to a place as humid as Panama, fix up a house, rent a house long-distance, comfort a chronically anxious senile dog, two wild cats, mend the fences at a small hospital that's mad because two of their friends got fired to hire her, establish a new practice, pass her boards, and make the cut on a 90-day probationary period with no one to even go to the grocery for her, in a place with very few grocery stores five years after Katrina.
I am hoping that I did the right thing. Right now I'm sure I did; I still get weak and sick after just a few errands and an hour of house work, and I still have to study for and pass my boards. I can make my money last until March, and with my certification, surely I will get something. It does bother me that I am sending out three to five resumes a week with no answer and most of the jobs I'm applying for fit my experience level really well. But I'm gaining control of the house for the first time in three years, and feng shui has got to help. My nerves, at least.
At ten nightly old lady dog and I go outside for her to pee. I peer up at the sky. So far, the stars aren't telling me much.
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