to make a short story a wee bit longer

Having already given away the punch line yesterday, I won’t bother to regale you with too many interview details. You know, like, details about how the moment I walked through the elevator doors I knew I’d want to work there. And how when the Pres showed me my future, Fifth Avenue corner office, I was even more convinced. And how I have been completely unable to relax since the moment he said, “I’d like to offer you the job…”

I squealed through three (or was it four?) really tasty martinis with Krissa, not stopping to realize that my nervous stomach was also a completely empty stomach. I hadn’t eaten a single bite all day. To our rescue came the uber cute bartender with Chinese delivery. Really good Chinese delivery.

I spent all Monday night not sleeping. And would have spent last night in the same fashion – tossing and turning, my brain focused on the phrase, “You’ve just changed your whole god damn life, you silly girl.” – except for multiple strawberry daiquiris with the RSF over a nice, “Congratulations” dinner. A Tylenol PM later, and I was out like a light.

My list of things to accomplish within the next three weeks is relatively short. Sublet my apartment in Boston. Find an apartment in New York. Move. You know, easy stuff. Totally doable, right?

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