Pending the results of a drug screen and background check (I’ll pass both, seeing as though I haven’t murdered anyone or had any other fun since my last job), I’ve been offered a job. I’ve been offered two jobs, actually, and even though I accepted the first one, I’ve now declined it before their background check was finished. I guess there was a delay in verifying my education because my high school no longer exists, so congratulations to me for having the foresight to weird habit of hanging onto my actual diploma for all those years.

Anyway, although I’m familiar with the first job’s industry and could probably dominate the position, the second job pays more, is closer to home, offers education assistance as a benefit and is indoors. As opposed to the first job, which offered a desk with a heater in a cold warehouse. That’s ultimately the biggest factor in dreading going to work in January, I think, no matter that I could wear jeans to that job. It’s time to put on the poly-blend slacks and start earning money like an adult, I guess.

My start date will be the day after Christmas, a little later than I anticipated when I first moved out here, but still something I can manage because a) I get another couple of weeks of poor person vacation, b) I can still manage it financially since our old landlord just returned our security deposit and c) starting before the New Year means my benefits kick in on February 1^st instead of me having to wait until March. And thank god for that, since I just discovered a hole in one of my back teeth and knowing my luck it’s probably another wisdom tooth, also since Graham’s visit I’m living in fear of having to go uninsured to the ER for some reason. And eventually I’d like to talk to someone about LASIK, because while I like wearing and do need my glasses, the constant drizzle here makes me look less like a person who is using them to correct her vision and more like a hobo who doesn’t realize her glasses are covered in droplets as she staggers around the city. I don’t want to give up the glasses, but the thought of putting contacts in my eyes makes me dry heave.

Also! Like I said, it feels like I’ve been having a poor person’s vacation. I haven’t been out of work for this long since I was probably 15, because even my during my documented period of unemployment, I was bartending part time less than a week after I got laid off. Without a job to work my nerves, I find that I grit my teeth less, have heartburn every few days instead of every minute of every day, and the shooting pain that once crippled my hands into T-Rex claws has disappeared. I sleep better. I cook more. Also, I have time to just do shit, most of which has been just walking around the neighborhood.

As a result of the walking, my jeans fit better even out of the dryer and I’ve dropped a belt loop. Er, hole. Whatever, it just means I’m a little less fat than I was before. This is in addition to the fact that I can handle the hills here far better than I could before, my legs feeling stronger and my lungs feeling not so much like they’re imploding anymore like they did when we first arrived.

In a little over two months, I got three jobs, learned the bus, got infinitesimally thinner, and nobody’s tried to make me a crime victim. Seattle has been good to me so far, I think.