march madness

We have our own version of March madness going on here! It involves B and his schooling, the cats and their issues, and me and my job crisis.

B missed a week of school last week, after missing one day two weeks earlier. He had started to plummet grade wise which always makes me wonder what he is really doing when he says he is studying for hours. For now, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he is appropriately chagrined, and will right the situation on his own. I don't know why, but it's always the third marking period when he takes these big stumbles.

The cats! I have still fallen into the category of Foster Failure but there is a big problem and it's cat pee.  Someone has been expressing distaste and I'm not sure who. My prime suspect is my Puff, but nobody has been caught in the act, so it could just as easily be any of the rest.  If a towel or article of clothing lands on the floor in the laundry room, it's peed on by morning. Same for clothes left out on the table in the dining room, or anything that happens to fall to the floor. Small area rugs are dwindling in numbers as I find them peed on and throw them out, and Abby is down to one new dog bed, which I ordered for her because it's off the ground and hopefully won't be viewed as a giant litterbox (as the cedar beds were seen by the offender). I scoop the boxes twice daily, and change weekly. I am at a loss. Video monitoring may be my next step!

And the job crisis.  I have been offered one job and am supposed to start Monday. But another may give me an offer, and what do I do? I feel like a terrible slug but there's not much choice. The job that I might be offered is, no doubt about it, a better opportunity. It's a job I can stay in for the long term. It offers intellectual challenges and a larger paycheck. And, although both are equally lengthy travels for me, Job B is a less traffic-ridden route.  Who would think that with all the trouble finding jobs that I have had, I'd end up in this situation? I had thought for a while that I would be lucky just to get one.

But perhaps that will be what happens. Job B has invited me back for a second interview today, and after that I hope I will clearly know their intentions. In fact, if they don't make these known by tomorrow, I will have to show up for Job A on Monday, or else relinquish it on the hopes that I will get B. One lesson I have learned is not to feel pressured to give an answer on the spot. My conversation when I got the offer replays in my head several times a day.

"Are you going to accept?"

"I probably will."

"You PROBABLY will?"

Cringe. She sounded so horrified that I said, "OK, I will!" But then she went over the low rate of pay, the length of the commute, and said that she wants me to be sure because she doesn't just want me to take the job and wait for something better to come along. Foreshadowing?  But I do feel terrible, because it's been two weeks that they have been waiting for me to start (although much of this is due to their odd requirement that I have medical clearance before starting).  The very next day after accepting, I got the email from Job B. I had hoped to have an answer early in the week but they are taking longer than that. I guess I should be happy it's happening this fast, as it took them six weeks to respond in the first place!

My dilemma now is - should an offer come through from B - is it OK to contact A through email with the news, or is a phone call a necessity? All my instincts tell me that the phone call is the right way to go. But my inner coward is horrified and can't imagine what to say.  I'm trying not to worry too much about it just in case B turns out to be a washout.

And in other news, M will be home this weekend! We have a whirlwind of activities planned, including a trip to NYC before she leaves for a tropical vacation with a friend on Tuesday morning.  Of course, if Job B doesn't pan out, Monday will be my first day at A. Added to last week's stress were my visit to the doctor, who, at 80, is hard of hearing and apparently of short term recall as well, as he asked me three times how old I was while he was checking my blood pressure, which was driven through the roof by this line of questioning while I was trying to keep my white coat hypertension in check.  Eventually he left and charged the nurse with running an EKG on me, which, with him out of the room, was normal, so I was left to go home with my flip flopping heart and skyrocketing dia- and systolics. The next day I had an annual mammogram, and sweated out that as well. I spent the day hoping for no call from the mammography center and for a call from Job B. Neither happened.