(no subject)
So I ended up scoring a job in Sydney that starts on monday. In the end i was offered 3 jobs in Newcastle, and just as i was wrestling with the options of going back to PWCS or try something new with Hunter Water, i went to a 'practise dream job' job interview for a position in sydney. It was one of those stroke your ego/get practice for the analyst position in the big city interviews and also maybe the desperate attempt to make sure i did not have to live at my parents house again for 6 months as i saved to go overseas.
I turned up having gone to that bit of Pyrmont the wrong way from the station, sweating like a piggie in my bag of fruit at 4:07 for a 4 pm interview. Most impressive start. Luckily for me a fire alarm went off and a conversation ensued with one of my interviewers about cats and kittens as she had recently acquired one of her own so by showing off my impressive array of cat trivia and anecdotes i displayed enough cat cred to con her into believing i was a cat person..so thus a decent upstanding citizen hehe... She wanted to run the interview inside whilst the alarm was going but we had to evacuate which is always a good start. Anyhow I feel it took away from the fact i was late - I did try to claim that rang in the alarm due to my lateness but it wasn't believed. Anyhow we had a speed interview when she finally tracked down her manager as she just HAD to get away at 5pm to go back home to her kitty. They talked about a 3 wee start date. I ummed and arrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRed (it was international talk like a pirate day). They offered me more money. I broke. I became a corporate whore.
So now i'm pulling apart my house and finishing painting and making it pretty for someone else to live in. I only have bits of painting left to do like doors and a few little things in the bathroom and the computer room blinds. I'm finding it incredibly hard to start packing. It's pulling apart my home, and i didn't realise how much time and effort i've invested into it over the past 3.5 years. I know the history of the house in that time intimately, which floorboards squeak, how to open those tricky front windows, when my neighbour's smoking up time and gentleman friends calling time is, knowing all the people in the neighbourhood by name - which is not bad in a built up area, how to shut my bedroom door to make the latch catch, my special spot outside to sit and share a spliff or sit with smokers looking at the stars and having deep and meaningfuls or talking utter gobshite and realising I'm leaving it all behind. Although i don't have much up on my walls i had lots of plants and other things to make my house It wouldn't be so bad if i was taking this to a new place, but most is going into storage until i sort out where i'll be living.. and things like my big lush wineglasses, my plants, my tealights, my bed, my books and other things will be put into boxes pending a new life when i sort out somewhere to live in a couple of months time.
Apologies for this self-indulgent over-the-top sentimental tripe but i just felt I had to.
I turned up having gone to that bit of Pyrmont the wrong way from the station, sweating like a piggie in my bag of fruit at 4:07 for a 4 pm interview. Most impressive start. Luckily for me a fire alarm went off and a conversation ensued with one of my interviewers about cats and kittens as she had recently acquired one of her own so by showing off my impressive array of cat trivia and anecdotes i displayed enough cat cred to con her into believing i was a cat person..so thus a decent upstanding citizen hehe... She wanted to run the interview inside whilst the alarm was going but we had to evacuate which is always a good start. Anyhow I feel it took away from the fact i was late - I did try to claim that rang in the alarm due to my lateness but it wasn't believed. Anyhow we had a speed interview when she finally tracked down her manager as she just HAD to get away at 5pm to go back home to her kitty. They talked about a 3 wee start date. I ummed and arrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRed (it was international talk like a pirate day). They offered me more money. I broke. I became a corporate whore.
So now i'm pulling apart my house and finishing painting and making it pretty for someone else to live in. I only have bits of painting left to do like doors and a few little things in the bathroom and the computer room blinds. I'm finding it incredibly hard to start packing. It's pulling apart my home, and i didn't realise how much time and effort i've invested into it over the past 3.5 years. I know the history of the house in that time intimately, which floorboards squeak, how to open those tricky front windows, when my neighbour's smoking up time and gentleman friends calling time is, knowing all the people in the neighbourhood by name - which is not bad in a built up area, how to shut my bedroom door to make the latch catch, my special spot outside to sit and share a spliff or sit with smokers looking at the stars and having deep and meaningfuls or talking utter gobshite and realising I'm leaving it all behind. Although i don't have much up on my walls i had lots of plants and other things to make my house It wouldn't be so bad if i was taking this to a new place, but most is going into storage until i sort out where i'll be living.. and things like my big lush wineglasses, my plants, my tealights, my bed, my books and other things will be put into boxes pending a new life when i sort out somewhere to live in a couple of months time.
Apologies for this self-indulgent over-the-top sentimental tripe but i just felt I had to.