And then A Good Thing Happened

And then I almost cried.

And then I did a little bit -- maybe even a lot -- of shrieking. I shrieked into phones, I shrieked via text message, I shrieked at my steering wheel, and I shrieked at other drivers who I passed on the road.

I went for a job interview on Monday morning and I knew that a decision was to be made by day's end. I left feeling great: I rocked the questions, I was dressed to the nines (the girl in before me was wearing cords! Corduroys! Or however it is you spell them!) and I didn't say "Uhm" a whole lot.

I returned to my house beaming and decided to nap until my phone rang with the good news.

School ends at like, three in the afternoon, for those of you not in the know.

At four o'clock I was laying in my bed in the depths of despair. Four o'clock is not a good sign at all. Four o'clock means no job. I had an outing planned that night and I knew it was too late to cancel. I would have to put makeup on and pretend to be social and happy and go out. I would have to interact with other human beings, and I don't know if you know this or not, but human interaction is not one of my strong points. In fact, it usually ends up in drunken debauchery or awkward silences.

At four thirty I managed to roll out of bed, slap some foundation over my acne, and drive listlessly down my driveway. The phone rang and I didn't want to answer it but I sadly reached into my pocket and answered the phone.

And it was HIM. The principal. From the school. OFFERING ME A JOB.

A JOB. WORK.

Like, one of those things you do in exchange for money.

I walked in on my first day and got high fives from staff and kids. My mother's high school best friend works at the school and ran up to me and hugged me in the hall way. Physiotherapists and occupational therapists and other EA's have been congratulating me all week. I feel like I've won gold for Canada, for cripe's sake.

I also picked a great week to start: All the kids were away my first day, the second day I supervised a school dance, and the third day is a "Professional Development Day". Where we develop ourselves professionally.

We get BREAKS on this job. And weekends off. And the kids aren't at the school between the hours of three p.m. and eight a.m. and do you know what that means?

I WILL NEVER HAVE TO SPEND THE NIGHT AT MY NEW JOB.

Unfortunately, I will also never be able to wear cowboy boots and a Metallica T-shirt to work, but I suppose this is a small price to pay.