December 28th, 2001

pants

Woo Hoo. (see music selection)

I have now packed a whole _two_ boxes. Not amazing, but as the proverb says, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a shopping spree to buy comfy shoes. or something.

But seriously, since I won't be moving until early february, just the fact that I'm starting to do something packing wise already in December makes me feel good. and I've been cleaning out closets/basement as I go...the better to offload stuff at the thrift store, my dear. If I was really on the ball, I'd donate it on Saturday so I can get the tax deduction for my charitable benevolence in 2001 (I'll get to deduct moving expenses in 2002), but I may hold out. I think I have 2 bags of clothes (I've been periodically cleaning out closets since July) already.

I'm trying not to overstress/overthink about the new job, but there's this delay thingy that's getting to me:

I had the Pre-Employment Physical (ie drug test) on Friday the 21st. then (presumably) the doc would have been closed for the weekend and the holidays on the 24th and 25th. I call on the 26th to find out when the results will be in and to my new employer- they don't know. Could be the 5th of January, maybe the 15th- they send all that work out to another lab, and they don't know when the lab will be done with my precious bodily fluids. they couldn't even give me a "oh, they'll definitely have it done by X day, but it could be sooner" date. So I have no idea when all this lab testing malarkey will be finished.

the chain of events is thus:
1) I don't get an "official" written job offer until they know I'm not a drug fiend.
2) until I get the official offer, I can't give 2 weeks notice at work.
3) I can't schedule the moving van until I know when I'll be done with work.
4) MBCFTP can't make his travel arrangements if he doesn't know when we're leaving. Since he is being kind enough to accompany me on this westward trek, I feel guilty for not having a more precise timetable, even though it's not my fault and there's nothing I can do to expedite the factors we're waiting on.

Like so many things, the not-knowing is difficult. yeah, I know it's highly unlikely that the deal will fall thru and I somehow won't get the written offer (I mean, it's not like I'm some wannabe techno-pagan that committed massive chemical indiscretions in early September that might fuck the drug test), but then again, it's possible something could go massively wrong.

I think I just want some finality so I can have a date in my mind set and I can have some closure with the idea that I'm really, really, leaving. Even with the packing, and the trying to wrap certain long-term projects up at work, it's still not quite "real" yet. It's some "Virtual December" game I've been playing for the past 2 weeks, kinda like The Sims, except without catching the stove on fire. And now for an all caps interlude:

ALL THIS LIFE-TURNED-UPSIDE-DOWN SHIT HAS HAPPENED IN THE SPAN OF ONLY 13 DAYS.

I've managed to acquire a new job, a new state and timezone of residence, and a new paramour/interest in less than 2 weeks. All I need to acquire before the month is over is a chronic medical condition or a criminal record to really pack on the experience points.
  • Current Music
    Blur- best of (including "Song 2", now stuck in yer head)
pants

And one more thing....

Many people (well, at least two) have told me regarding MBCFTP that "you (you generically, not me specifically) always find (in the romantic sense of 'find', not as in 'locating a lost contact lens') someone when you're not looking for them ". I think this is for the most part true. I was so not expecting any Xmas action, that I didn't even pack condoms for my trip home (although in the past when I've travelled, I've packed them "just in case" more often than not, despite a history of never finding myself needing them).

Anyway, re-reading some of my posts of the last 2 weeks to get a handle on all this flux, I found this on 12/16 (11 days ago):

The ironic thing to happen would be if I fall in love with someone in Columbus (Boy with Tattooed Hand, perhaps) in the next 6 weeks and then have a horribly teary goodbye. That, or terrorists crash planes into the Space Needle.

No no, that wouldn't be irony, because I'd already noted the possibility. REAL irony is when you reconnect with someone who you remember from college and high school, but he also remembers you from JUNIOR HIGH (how many years ago this was is too ghastly to speak aloud), and yet he -still- finds you kissable. That, O My Brothers, is Irony.