I feel as if I’m poised on a cliff again. I’m standing at the very beginning of things. There is a knot in my stomach and my hands are shaking. I’m more nervous than I can remember being in a very long time. You wouldn’t think a simple phone call would do this to me, but well…it is. This afternoon I have an informal interview for this management position I’ve applied for. It’s hard to concentrate on the work I should be doing when my brain is turning round and round, trying to come up with any questions that this woman might end up asking me. And all the while praying to whatever deity may be listening that just once, this will be the afternoon that I don’t get a line of people at my desk with urgent questions; that I do not end up having to continually put this woman on hold because work gets in the way. And most important of all, that no one overhears and begins to suspect that I am actively trying to leave. There is a layer of guilt at the bottom of all of this about that – that I’m trying to leave a project in which I play too high-profile a role.

It’s just an interview. I’m not going anywhere, and chances are that nothing will come of this and then no one need ever know what I was trying to do. If I keep telling myself that, maybe I’ll be able to calm down.

I try to keep my mind on other things. Like the fact that despite the promised design freeze, and the development end date looming in less than two weeks, we are still being hit with requests to do more work. Like that fact that I’m now the proud owner of new, improved house plans, and a handful of city permits, and this time the start date is official. Monday they’ll mark it out. Tuesday they’ll begin trenching. I can only assume that involves digging. I’m hesitant to get too excited until they actually start, as rain is predicted for next week, and it would be just my luck for the house to be postponed yet again.

They’ve sent me another replacement for my laptop, so perhaps this one will work perfectly and I will not have to rely on the hardware support people at my company any more to figure out how to get around the lack of network connection, and refusal of my computer to recognize server names. I don’t know yet if it does – it’s still sitting in its box on my dining room table, waiting for me to have enough time to take it out and do a hard drive swap again. At least they helped me figure out how to get my email – a good thing too, since, just as I suspected, the woman with whom I’ll be interviewing replied to my work email, despite the plea to contact me elsewhere. But no matter. Such a slight needs no forgiveness – I saw the email the evening she sent it, and the important thing is that she wants to interview me.

The election, of course, is the best distraction of all. Since Tuesday afternoon, I’ve been hitting refresh on my browser every few hours to see what the vote count is now. I never paid so much attention to an election before. But the thought of another Republican in the White House sends chills down my spine. Oh, it won’t be so bad…if you’re white, male, and straight, but that man’s father tried and nearly succeeded in getting Roe vs. Wade appealed, and Bush himself is strongly against many of the issues that are near and dear to my heart. We are teetering on the edge of a leadership that could potentially result in setbacks for rights fought so hard for. Granted, Bush may have more of a personality than, but one should never elect a president based on personality. It’s the issues that matter…and those issues are currently hanging in the balance as the nation waits for the final tally. If I let myself, I can get all worked up about the situation, so I watch the gap between the two contenders dwindle more and more, and, like most of the rest of this country, just wish that it would finally be over.

Just a bit more time. In less than an hour she will call and I will have to do my best to not get nervous and giggle, to answer intelligently, to field questions from coworkers without letting them interrupt. And then all there is left to do is wait.