I have been on a low-carb diet for the last three weeks, which has proven impossible while traveling and without my own transportation. I was finally too hungry to deal and bought a snickers bar because it was literally speaking to my inner self.

Yes, I wore these loud blue pants to my interview. In an early round, the interviewer said she believed in saying it like it is. I ... struggle with people who don’t mean this 100%, and coupled with my last few days of academia, decided to experiment with being exactly like myself. All the time. Relatively unmitigated by circumstance.

I can never go back.

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I also have a lot of really loud pants? I think it’s been my way of coping with not being allowed to be exactly like myself because: professionalism or whatever.

This gig I interviewed for was in a city where FluterDude was potentially going to grad school. He didn’t get into the school but I did get the interview. It’s the first time in almost a decade that I would have a 401k, and only the second year in that decade that I would have my own insurance. If I get it, we will live 1000 miles apart.

I love that my dad ranks that as the third or fourth most important factor to consider. (Right where FluterDude and I put it when we discussed this job.) I love that I told the job I was ready to do something that felt meaningful and the distance would be inconvenient but manageable. I love that they - and my father and my husband - all took this at face value. I love that if, for any reason, I stop liking the idea of this job - like if the salary package comes back as being bullshit - that I can pack my dogs up and move to Oklahoma and never think about it again.

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I may or may not be having a reaction to all that sugar hitting my system after two weeks of a steady glycemic index. It feels the way I imagine cocaine.

Our older dog - FluterDog - is sick again, after her near death experience in February. I am mentally preparing for the backdrop of all these positive changes to be saying goodbye to my furry bestie. I have been poor all of her life, or working ridiculous hours to be stable. It seems unfair that she would miss a year or so of lavish living with fancy medical grade wet food and the best orthopedic doggy beds.

I have to call her “our” dog because she is at home being tended by FluterDude. It seems strange to me that we’re better at sharing and communicating and being generally married now. A year ago I was talking about setting off on my own adventures - not because I didn’t like him, but because I wasn’t happy. Now we’re planning a joint adventure and i’d genuinely like to go - but I might have a legit opportunity elsewhere?

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Life is weird.

Airports are weird.

Making conversations with Lyft drivers is weird. I spoke with a PhD student in English and a former civil engineer from Jordan. Both of their cars smelled like ashtray. (There’s seldom a call for Lyft in Kansas. I’ve finally joined 2013!!)

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It’s been a weird day. Thanks for letting me share.