I'm starting a new job tomorrow. I wasn't looking for a new job; this one came looking for me, by way of a former coworker letting me know about an opening where he's working now.
At first procrastinated following up, assumed it wasn't for me, told my husband I wasn't really considering it. In fact, I tried to push it away. I wrote a high desired salary on the application form; I told the interviewer my limitations quite frankly. "I don't want you to think I...."
But when the interviewer told me what the job actually entails, I realized it would be a good career move for me. If nothing else, it'll look better on my resume than what I've been doing the last 18 months. They didn't offer what I had asked, but I negotiated them up to about halfway between what I'd written down and what they'd initially offered. (First time I ever negotiated; I guess it's true what they say about being prepared to walk away!)
Meanwhile, our 15-year-old dog died. Butch wasn't sick long; he had some sort of crisis at 3 a.m. and went rapidly downhill from there. By the time I got home from work, it was obvious his time had come. My husband and I took him to the vet and had him put to sleep.
I would have been fine with just our cats for a while, but Brian missed having a dog. So long story short, we brought home Sassy from a local shelter on the day before Thanksgiving. Going from an arthritic 15-year-old dog to a 7-month-old chewing machine is quite an adjustment! But walking the dog is back to being good exercise for me.
By the way—this all happened in November!
So I am trying to cut myself a break. My attempts at writing a blog post during this past month have been abject failures; but I was trying to write something Penetrating and Profound, and I just didn't have the bandwidth. So here you go: Prosaic and Paltry.
Even the good changes require that we give ourselves time to adjust.