Mt. Kilimanjaro, among other things

Last weekend, I came to somewhere in the middle of Coleman Boulevard and realized I was on the front end of a 10k foot race to the other side of town. Up until that point, I think my brain was still in my nice, warm bed at my parents' casa. I'm not sure if it was some sort of defense mechanism my body whipped up to make sure I actually got out of bed and crossed the starting line, or the fact that I skipped my morning cup o' joe. Either way, the frigid wind (thank you, March, for being total crap) and the thousands and thousands of natives, transplants, and tourists made for a seriously startling morning. Two miles to the bridge, a half a mile straight up the slant side of Mt. Kilimanjaro, a mile or so running with wobbly legs to the pavement downtown, and a few miles left to the finish line where the Kenyans had been chillin' for an hour or so. There's nothing quite as demoralizing as a well rested African munchin' on Chick-fil-a as you cross the finish line almost on your death bed. But, I finished. And I didn't stop. So, check that off until next year.

So....I have some big news. I don't necessarily have a job yet, but I had an interview at UNC yesterday and my impression was that it went very, very well. The "New Graduate" Clinical Nurse I positions don't orient until July and August, but they asked me to come on as a CST for a few months prior--I'm not sure what that technically stands for, but it's a dual role of unit secretary and nursing assistant. Not at the same time, per se, but a few days a week as a nursing assistant and a few days as a unit secretary. Basically, it's a huge opportunity and I'm taking hold of it with both hands!! It will be challenging, no doubt, but I'm ready for a challenge. Thus far, (aside from job searching) my greatest hurdle has been finding my way around town. I don't want my brain to turn to mush. Bring. it. on.

In light of the latest distractions--being out of town and preparing for the interview of a lifetime--our apartment has gone completely to pot. It's gross. I'm embarrassed. I would probably not even crack the door for a delivery man, just implore him to leave his goods on the door mat. The laundry is piled to the ceiling, we've been surviving on pickles, cereal, yogurt, and peanut butter, and the bathroom is giving me the heebie-jeebies. Today, my job is to put on my super-wife cape and welcome my husband home to an apartment rivaling a stepford wife's mansion. It probably (definitely) won't stay that way, but a girl can dream.

Happy last day of March everyone! Don't be fooled tomorrow!