Wow. I've done it again. Searched for, pursued, and applied for a job; interviewed; gotten considerably high in the process; and now ... I'm frantically hoping that I do NOT get it.
I play with the birds, and mourn for their livelihoods if I desert them for 10 hours per day.
I pick up my Mr., and worry about our codependent relationship and his well-being if I have to work till a later hour than he does.
I work on my projects, and realize that if I just actually committed to 8 hours a day of solid work, I would make money as good as I'd be getting at this gig.
The fact that I could get out of debt within a year or two, get my cavities filled, and probably drop fifteen pounds pretty fast doesn't enter the picture when I'm in this state. I'm just paddling about in a festering pond of anxious horror at the idea that I'll get a great gig.
I'm astounded and annoyed. At myself. As usual. You too, huh?