I have a horseshoe shoved so far up my ass you can see the reflection in my glasses.
Turns out I need to give THREE months notice if I'm thinking of leaving (rather than one), so technically --
they just did me a favour by laying me off.
I decided to give up on the last vestiges of hating chickitude and did a typical chick thing and bought a pair of shoes on the way home.
I'm going to need a pair of sensible black leather pumps for the upcoming interviews.
Soon as I figure out what country those'll be in.
So. Let's see. I've been stressing for the last couple of months about whether I should leave, whether I should be going through the hell it is to find another appartment in Paris after my lease runs out here, whether I should do a million things
and
the HR lady at Planaxis asked me a question and we ended the conversation laughing and shaking hands and thanking each other
two hours later
and suddenly I am so relieved I'm afraid the horseshoe might just slip out due to the sudden relaxation of my previously puckered asshole.
Pardon the language, I'm starting to feel freedom teasing my wings again.
I've got a few huge decisions to make and some serious thinking to do as to whether or not I think I'm considering the right options.
I've fortunately got the cash and courage to do both.
I could certainly use some advice, though.
And guys? THank you for worrying, but know that that's the one thing you don't have to do.
No matter what, I appear to have this horshoe stuck so far up my ass that I've got tears in my eyes.
Wonderful. You're all, so, wonderful.