A Countdown of a Different Sort

Tomorrow I start my new (old) job. I am returning to work, to the company at which I was employed prior to the birth of my child 3+ years ago, and for various and sundry reasons inappropriate for disclosure in the blogosphere, I’m scared to death.

I’ve had knots in my stomach for days.

I’m trying to chill out. As Shawn has pointed out, and quite rightly so, there is nothing for it but to go in there and do the best job I can. I know I can do the work for which I was hired. Beyond that, I know I can do it well. So now is the time to let go of the things I cannot change, take hold of my characteristic optimism by the scuff of the neck, and walk in that door.

My head is all over that. Someone explain it to the moths doing the conga in my stomach.

Deep breath.

Some mystical part of me insists that if I can get to Friday, this all going to be okay. More pressing is making it through the next sixteen hours or so. In an unfortunate bit of luck, Shawn is working one of his once-in-a-three-days-after-the-blue-moon late shifts tomorrow night, so if I need someone to hold me like I’m the three-year-old and tell me everything is going to be okay tomorrow night, I’m going to have to wait until after 9 p.m.

I’m as prepared as I can be. The kitchen is spotless so I will wake up to clean, ant-free surfaces. Luke’s lunch is all but packed up. I know where my keys and my purse are. My box of desk stuff is by the back door so I won’t forget it. Same damned box I used to haul my stuff out of there 3 years ago, incidentally. I baked a batch of scones (thank you, Anna) so I’ve got a quick breakfast for the morning. There is gas in the car. I’m casting on for a new pair of socks tonight so I can take a little knitting with me to the office. To be clear, I have no expectations or intentions to actually knit at the office, but I’ll feel better knowing there’s a ball of yarn out in the car.

I’m ready for this.

Clarification: I’m as ready as I’m going to get.

Counting down to Friday, beginning now.