Today was a weird, weird, day.

1st of all, I had a job interview and was offered the position. I don't want to get too too excited, because it's still pending all that background stuff. And I know I'm getting nervous for nothing; I haven't EVER committed a crime, much less ever been arrested for anything. (Some people call it "Goody-two-shoes"...I prefer "morally-obligated" ) I also have no drugs in my system. I've never done drugs in my life. But still, I worry . It'll be fine.

I am so super happy about it, though. It's part time, which is exactly what I wanted. So I can go to school, work, and volunteer in one, hopefully two different areas. I'd like to volunteer and give back, but I also really want to volunteer or become a member of a historical society or something like that. Something that would look nice on an application, because "I've read every local history book I can find and done a cemetery photo project for a historical landmark group and I really really like history " is nice and all, but doesn't mean a whole lot.

So that was the perfectly awesome part of today. Hopefully I'll hear back tomorrow and get a start date.

So then, I went to barn, for my lessons and stall cleaning....and promptly locked my keys in the car. Not only my keys, but my phone as well. And helmet. And riding boots. So now I have dirty barn boots, no helmet, and no one around for miles. Because of course my instructor wasn't there when I got there. So I cleaned the barn, and she showed up and let me borrow her phone. I called home...no one was there. Left a message. Called again...still no one. Called home a third time- nothing. Left message. Because of course, why would I remember anyone's cell number? They're ALL IN MY PHONE!!! I have a weird memory... I only remember numbers that I've dialed at least three times. So yeah, I remember the number of a guy friend I never talk to anymore, from like 5 years ago, and I remember the number of Jimmy John's, and I remember my extension from my job when I worked at the college two years ago as well as the extensions to about ten of the faculty. But no, I don't remember my sister's number. Finally, I remembered that my sister volunteers at the church on Monday nights, and I happened to remember THAT number, after three attempts, and I got a hold of the person she helps, and told the lady to tell my sister when she gets there to call my aunt (who lives ten minutes from where I ride) to come pick me up at 7:00, if she could, because otherwise I wouldn't have a ride until 9:30 when everyone else got home from their respective jobs.

Somehow, the message got lost in translation, and the woman told my sister I was at a "bar", not "barn", and gave her the wrong address. So my sister, also not getting it, called 911. 911 transferred her to the local sheriff... well, not so local. Apparently, the sheriff, being that he was 20 minutes away from where I ride, wouldn't go out to break into my car. Andy Taylor he wasn't. Then she called a tow truck. The tow truck driver told her the address she gave him should have 4 digits, not 3. (These are all things that I considered, btw, and rejected. All I needed was the spare key, which was in a pile of keys next to the mail in-boxes in the kitchen at our house. Plus, I wasn't going to call 911. 911 is for emergencies, not stupid equestrians.)

Poor Little Joe (as my dad calls my car, thanks to my vanity plate). I had actually considered breaking the window. I just couldn't do it, though. But it WAS really annoying, to peer into the window, and see the lanyard of my keychain hanging out of the glove compartment, swinging oh-so gently as I tried to forcefully yank open the door, hoping that one of those little mechanical things that always goes wrong when you least expect it would actually happen when it was wanted.

On top of all this, Sammy has a hurt foot, and I had to ride Anton tonight. Anton and I don't get along. See, every horse has faults, just like every rider has faults. I prefer Sammy's stubborn falling-to-the-right all the time and refusing the bit or to pick up his feet to be cleaned, to Anton's easy bit-taking and foot-cleaning, but head tossing and going to the inside and in circles in the arena. Not to mention that I cantered like TEN times tonight. I want to canter eventually... but certainly not when the horse decides he wants to!!!

Anyway, I got done with my lesson and walked out of the arena with my saddle... and there sat my sister in her car, afraid to get out because the dog was barking. Isaiah is a very friendly dog, but he does bark. And my sister hates dogs. Anyway, she went home, heard my messages, found the key in the pile, and I didn't have to walk home at 7:00pm.

I'm going to put a lock box with a spare key under my car in the future.

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I just wanted to change tracks a little bit, and say, that this is the best thing that could possibly have happened.

I am SO GLAD that I quit my job. My only regret is that I just really wish that I had quit sooner. I have been happier in the last three days than I have been for a long long time. (Not including the Bonanza Convention, which was actually a huge turning point, and I am SO very glad that I decided to go). I just needed to say this, because so many of my posts in past...many...months have been negative, all "Today at work..." and "I hate life" and .

I'm just so happy and just...joyful... and I've vented in here so much in the past that I wanted to share the good instead, so that it stops being so negative.

Even if this particular job doesn't work out, I'm still happier now, and have been happier ever since I quit. It's like a huge weight has been lifted, all of a sudden, and everything's green and sunny, and it's all going to work out.

Thank you, thank you, thank you everyone, for putting up with me and my endless frustration the past year(s). And thank you so much, for giving me the support and nudges I needed to motivate me to change it. You'll never know just how much that meant to me.

I'm so happy for you!

Congratulations, CC. I'm so happy for you.

Congratulations! That's wonderful news.