So another thing happened, and this is a good thing. Probably. Sort of. Maybe? Via a friend in the company, I landed a three-month contract for a part time job as a web administrator (basically pouring data into a CMS). I already knew some of my new co-workers, having met them at parties thrown by said friend, and pub quizzes and the like, so I know it’s a good working environment, and I really love webwork so yay! Am happy.
But this does postpone my officially moving in to My House until the end of the year. I mean, I’m taking the first few boxes over this weekend, and will probably haul a few boxes every other weekend until it’s done, but unless one of my sons moves in with me, it’ll be awhile before I can be reunited with my beloved Hekate. Sigh. But I really love this job already!
But it’s only temporary… OR IS IT? (dun-dun-duuuunnnnn…). A boss already asked me if I’d be interested in staying past the end of my contract and of course I said yes because I really love the work and my co-workers are cool. But it’s a helluva commute from Bavaria.
But I can’t not move. I turfed out the world’s best tenants so I could live in this house; if I change my mind now they will mad, and justifiably so. I still want to move. I think. Do I?
STOP IT STOP IT STAAAAAHP IT! Every time I start to question that, I run into Hobag or see them on the street or find out that they live a block from me or some other distressing thing. Clearly, the tenants finding a new place so quickly is a sign that I should go back to my house, and running into Hobag and Cheatobag all the time is a further sign. This awesome new job is just… a reason to be sad about going.
Oh, P.S. I also finally found a really good ballet class.