No victory dances just yet . . .
Despite finding something to wear to my interview yesterday, things didn't go as smoothly as I had hoped. It wasn't a bad interview, per se, but it wasn't my best. Even though I did spend most of the day being bummed about that, I finally woke up today to realize that, in the long run, the worst that could happen is that I don't get this job and will have to apply at a few other companies. Not really cause for a panic attack. Not yet, at least.
Anyway, here is the promised picture of me standing in front of the door in our kitchen...
The door leads to the basement, which I guess is why there is a lock on it. You know, to keep little ones from tumbling headfirst down some not-at-all-cushy stairs, the ones that end in a concrete floor. The only reason we ever use the lock is to show that the cats have been put in the basement for the night and to warn the world that anyone who lets them up will suffer The Wrath of the Father.
I guess I could make some sort of segue between physical doors and doors of opportunities, but I'd rather just go make myself a mid-afternoon batch of s'mores. Please keep your fingers crossed about this job, though . . .