So yeah, contrary to popular belief, I have not fallen off the face of the earth. 

As you may recall, I left in early January to work in New Orleans for 2 months.  I had every good and pure intention of blogging there, but…I don’t know, things (work, wonky Internet connection, work, travel, work, margaritas, work, parades and, you know, more work) got in the way. 

And then I came home and kept thinking, “Wow, I really need to post something to my blog,” but I have to confess that there’s a long long list of things that I have really needed to do since I got back, and I’ve been a total slacker about basically my entire existance and am just all, “Meh, will do that tomorrow” wherein “tomorrow” really means next week, next month, when I get around to it or likely never. 

I did, as you can see, migrate my blog away from Her Hangout so I didn’t lose 9 months worth of posts.  Oh, and I made my new blog all pretty and fleur de lis-y. 

(Cut to one of those wavy TV flashback effects) 60 days in New Orleans…it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. 

 The Good?  Seeing and working with old co-workers-turned-friends, meeting new co-workers-turned-friends, overtime pay, learning lots more about this crazy organization I work for and feeling like what we were doing really mattered, lunches and dinners at awesome New Orleans restaurants, Mardi Gras (beads! alcohol!  general debauchery!  day off work!). 

The Not So Good?  Total frustration about the organization I work for, lots of self-doubt, taking the occasional ego hit, staying in a hotel for two months, not as altogether awesome as my last experience in New Orleans, the somewhat difficult woman I worked for and Mardi Gras (more beads?  more parades?  more alcohol?  Dear god, make it stop). 

In the end, my office there did exactly what they said they would do in 60 days time and offered me a permanent actual job.  And then came the angst…

I talked to every single person in my life who’s opinions matter to me.  I cried.  I changed my mind 50 bazillion times.  I wondered and worried and fretted and debated. 

I was about 75% to a decision when my boss from my office back home called.  To tell me he had accepted another job and would be leaving.  And, oh yeah, they wanted me to fill in for his position till the new person came in (but I wouldn’t be eligible for the job permanently). 

Well, damn.  The whole messy cycle started all over again and finally I took a deep breath and did what I knew in my heart was the right answer — I accepted the job.  And then the reality of it all hit me…I was going to MOVE.  More than 1,000 miles away from the place I have lived for the last 15 years, from the family I have never lived more than 45 minutes away from, from my awesome friends and their awesome kids, from my entire LIFE. 

Oh.  Holy.  Hell.  A day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t questioned, just a little bit, the wisdom of this decision, but I think it’s going to be okay.

So now what?  For the past few weeks, I’ve been making myself awfully comfortable in this little place called “Limbo Land.”  See, the job is not official yet and I officially have no freakin’ clue when it will be, and I can’t really do much of anything till it is official, lest something untoward happen and the whole job thing collapses upon itself.  People know that I’m leaving, you know, at some point in the near or not-so-near future.  I’m beginning to sort out my apartment and purge stuff that I don’t really feel the need to drag halfway across the country.  And the slacker ennui I’ve been coping with hasn’t helped me be any more efficient. 

(Plus, I’m afraid that if I do too much before the job is all official-like, it will be tempting fate and the job will fall through and I’ll be stuck here forever PLUS I’ll have to unpack 47 cardboard boxes of my belongings.)

Things are fixin’ to get real interesting up in here.