Lately, when I am thoroughly convinced that the day is a bust, and all I want to do is sulk, something positive happens.
The universe called. You’ve overbooked the pity parties.
We were driving around, running errands, and then bam, one right after another, each of us got a phone interview. The first call came for her. As soon as I realized it was a job call for her, I whipped the car out of traffic into a vacant lot (…or somebody’s yard, I don’t know). Her call went well, but a resume revision was needed quickly.
I peeled out of there quickly and headed back home. Then, somebody called me. I swerved out of heavy traffic onto a side road. I passed a police station, and whipped it up into an apartment complex — and delivered excellent phone interview responses, nearly cracking the car windows with my enthusiasm and optimism. I have a second phone interview with the more technical, actual bossman dude tomorrow.
Later in the evening the universe sent me more reminders, namely: My problems are small, and there’s other stuff happening in the world. I read tweets and viewed video and photos of Ferguson. I tried not to drop opinions into the feeds of my twitter friends too much. I didn’t get all worked up. I just contributed to the hive – the consciousness – relaying info, retweeting this and that, just kind of hoping for the best, most peaceful evening that could be possible given the circumstances.