I applied for a job that’s a long shot.
It’s a good fit but a long shot.
Best case scenario: full time work.
Worst case scenario: about the same.
Some told me, basically, I’m damaged goods as an archaeologist because of my heart issues.
Someone else has told me that due to my progress I can still work in the field. Don’t worry. Be happy. Be safe.
My cardiologist thinks we’re all nuts. So. That. But he does think my beautiful, beleaguered, and hard-working heart is recovering nicely. He’s not counting me out for anything.
As the kids say haters will hate. It’s more like mean people will be mean.
The long shot seems as safe and secure as anything.
If the long shot fails, then I hope for more part time work.
Who knows. Maybe that’s the actual best case scenario.
As I submitted this application, I told myself it’s the last one.
The. Last. One.
I told myself I’m done looking for full time work.
I told myself that I’ll cobble together part time jobs somehow. If I have to move to do it, I will.
I doubt I’ll listen to myself.
I don’t doubt that circumstances will move me in some direction. Of course they will. They always do.
I can’t go anywhere until B is done with his soccer years. Everyone here is in agreement about that. Then we’ll see.