48 Hours

My friend who thinks that I sound like an angry only child can stop reading HERE because today I am on a roll. I am anxious and angry all at the same time. I keep dropping stuff and I can't focus.

In 48 hours I should (supposedly, if they stick to the stated schedule) hear back from the law firm about the second interview. There is way, way too much riding on this. If I don't get this job (1) I wonder if I will stop being a lawyer. I simply don't know where else to turn and already feel like my practice skills have exponentially slipped away over the past seven months; (2) We will have to move from our house, my husband's and my first house together and the one that has the great view out of the kitchen window; and (3) No more Tory Burch shoes. And that may sound all really superficial, but here's the angry part - I worked really, really, really hard to be a lawyer. Not just because of the house and the shoes, but because I like practicing law. I don't know what I would do with myself to fill and fulfill my days if I am not practicing law.

Here's another angry part. It is suppose to snow this morning, but I won't see it because, in case I haven't mentioned before, I work in a cube - Four dark gray industrial fabric walls with a tiny slit to let me in and out and an energy saving light bulb overhead. This cube might as well be lit by candlelight. I want to see the snow. I want to see the snow for the strange reason that it will hurt. You know how sometimes you just want to hurt. The day I got laid off it was snowing and I could never imagine that I would still not be employed as a lawyer through the rest of winter, the spring, summer and the first snow of fall. Seeing the snow is almost like an affirmation of a new life, the one I wasn't ready to accept when the snow was on the ground when I first got laid off, but must accept now. Everything is going to change big time, in 48 hours, one way or another.