It's nearly noon and the shades in my writing room are still drawn. The softness of semi-darkness is exactly what the molecules of my body are hungry for right now. I've just returned from an interview at an upscale flower shop and am sitting in the glow of my lamp, eating lunch, and wondering what I should do (I was offered the position. Should I take it?). I started coming down with something lastnight and today I'm feeling just generally ooky and terrible. It's hard to make any decisions under these circumstances. Not to mention, I have to go to work at the bookstore in an hour. I love working there, but today I just want to crawl under the covers and sleep.
I think my body is getting generally run-down from the effects of being new at one job and the stress of getting a second job. Counting my blessings, at least I'm getting offers. One I didn't take because it felt all wrong. That was an easy decision. Then there's this flower shop--which sounds like it could be both challenging and fun, maybe even a little intimidating. But it's a long commute if I need to depend on the bus (which I probably will). V.'s getting more adjuct offers and will, therefore, probably be using the car the most--that's just the way it's working out.
One source of my stress is that I'm waiting to hear back from the place I want to work the most (a 2nd job, that is). It involves working with animals. It is within walking distance of my house. And, at this time in my life, it would be the job of my dreams. A humble job, but one that I've always wanted to do. It would be rewarding in many more ways than a paycheck--but, even so, it pays ok.
So, the question is: Do I want to make extremely creative $500.00 floral bouquets on a daily basis, wrangle up new corporate customers, and do interior design in a very rich neighborhood OR do I want to work with animals? And how long will I have to wait to find out if I will even get the animal job?? And how long can I make the floral shop job wait for me to make a decision?
I'm at a fork in the road and all I can do is be patient for a few more days and see what happens. And, of couse, being sick doesn't help. In the meantime I'd like to just morph into a puddle on the floor. Oh god, what a big baby I am.
But enough whining...
It's time to go to work.
This is what was written in the Southwest Journal about the place where I've been spending my days:
"Once upon a time, there was a little bookstore in Linden Hills called the Wild Rumpus. It was a place where nothing ordinary ever happened. But if you've been to the Rumpus, then you already know that. From the menagerie of chickens, cats and rats that run the store to the child-size purple door within a door, whimsical and wacky are the rule at the Rumpus" (Ellen Kane).
Now really, how can I complain?