The Waiting's the Hardest Part

And not for Godot. Or Tom Petty. But to find out about this friggin' job.

I know, I can hear the Greek Chorus in the background :"Amy, will you cut it out - it hasn't even been a week yet!" But you know, that chaos thing. Just don't like it. Also, with this other job soon to be ending... you know - it would be nice, for once, to have everylittlelittlelittlething all tied up in a nice little package.

Also, my crazy self is worried that my freak job won't give me a good reference - so that sets me on edge. Even though I know I'm doing a good job & that my supervisor is a case study of how not to manage... you just don't know.

Plus. OK. I'll say it. THere's another minor, minor, oh so very very minor thing that could be influencing this. Oh so minor that I even hesitate to mention it... but awww, what the heck? Why not? Why not just throw it out there. I mean, it's so minor that if I mention it - it'll make no difference. I mean, it's only three little letters - and you know what - not one of them is even a vowel!! That's right! pms.