I Came to Alabama with a Banjo on My Knee

For the past two days I have been keeping vigil by the phone, anxiously anticipating The Phone Call for The Job.

Today, at approximately 5:15 pm, Three Springs finally called. The Phone Call lasted for about one minute in length. What's more, it wasn't The Phone Call at all but just a phone call... The next step is mailing or faxing the application which will be perused for any glaring reason why I shouldn't work for them. Then they call and we start working on a start date and all that fun stuff.

Why, oh why, couldn't I have mailed the application last week? It might have gotten there by now! No, I get to wait a little longer.

Although, despite my anxiety, these last few days have forced me to really decide. And I'm not talking, "This sounds cool let's go" kind of deciding. This was real belly flopping, heart in my throat when the phone rings, deciding. Not to mention all the fun that happened in my brain between phone calls (the phone calls that I thought were It, but were just my sister asking for something).

As long as no one says anything about being homesick, or says "are you sure?", I should be good to go.

We are now entering phase two. The phase where my parents start saying things that show they really don't want me to go but won't actually say that they don't want me to go.

It actually started earlier today in various conversations with ma:

In response to my comment that I don't like the humidity - "You don't like the heat, Connecticut would be better for that."

I cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen, but forgot the laundry - "You can't even remember to fold the laundry, you shouldn't go if you can't even handle a simple task like that."

I'm going to a Convention youth event this weekend called Quest - "You should take this oppurtunity to network a little, maybe a pastor is leaving and needs a replacement."

I haven't talked to my dad yet, I'm sure there'll be some classic guilt trips thrown in there...