Part Three: Meanwhile...

Alternate (and too long) title for this post: The one where cousins inexplicably have the hots for each other, short people with big feet do things and the movie should have ended seven different times, or Scott Foley isn’t dead, but IS Neve Campbell’s half brother.

Ha! Trilogy humor. I hope you get all three.

Remember when I had my interview on Thursday in NYC? That morning I got an email from an arts org for a job I had applied to months ago. I had that interview a week ago Monday, right before my lunch with my friend/coworker. I haven’t heard since and I should have, so I assume I didn’t get it. I’m not upset about it. I didn’t have some of the specific experience they were looking for. But it was still a good interview exercise, and she asked a couple of unusual questions and I am happy to report I can sort of think on my feet. All my answers were good but I just don’t have the right experience.

So not 15 minutes after I walk out of the interview, I get a phone call from another arts organization about a job I applied to in JUNE. This particular job is in Florida, about 45 minutes from the house my family has down there that used to be my grandmother’s. So I applied because I had a place to live, and my former (Masters) Program Director told me not to be afraid of the jobs that I think are out of my reach, because "You never know". I never thought they would actually call me. But they did!

(Dear Universe: Nothing for eight months, NUH-THING, and then all of a sudden I’m popular?! Not cool. I mean, yes, flattering, but…not cool.)

Thursday afternoon, when I knew what the results of NYCJob were going to be but didn’t want to fully admit it to myself, I called FloridaJob and made plans for an interview the following Friday. My family also used this as an excuse to be in Florida, so we all packed up and left Monday morning.

Spent a day and a half cramped in the backseat with no legroom and a dog wanting to do nothing but cuddle and rest right up against me even when the sun is beating down on us through the backseat windows. He’s panting like crazy but refuses to move over to his side, which happens to be shaded. Dumb dog. But it's all okay, these were the conditions I had to endure to secure a trip free of financial burdens. Also it's not like I didn’t love the fact that he actually wanted to hang out with me.

We got to the house Tuesday around 4pm. The last time I had been in my Grandmother’s house was four years ago but most of my memories of the place are from my childhood. Now, I roamed the house looking in drawers, opening cabinets, and took a nostalgic inventory of glasses, mugs, and furniture that reminded me of those summer visits as an elementary school kid. It was less cluttered and a lot cleaner. It still smelled like her house, though – in a good way. Not like my maternal grandmother’s house that reeked of wet dog and musk ten years after the actual dog passed away. So anyway, it’s been nice to be here. I have my interview tomorrow. Regardless of its outcome, it will have been nice to get down here and see the place in its new era.