This afternoon I begin orientation for a new, full-time job up at Portland International Airport.
I've been working to get this job this entire month: the company called me about my application on Nov. 1st, I interviewed on Nov. 6th, and since then I've waited for other people's behind-the-scenes work to get done. That got done yesterday.
I'm nervous, and hopeful. I've said little about what the job because I've felt somehow that saying too much about it would be bad luck; and even now, it doesn't quite feel real.
But I celebrated last night, in a low-key way: I had dinner and a cider at Bar Carlo, then walked back home warm and slightly buzzed. That was the first drink I've bought in a couple of years, and my first drink at all since July 2017 when I had wine that one of my uncles had made abs had brought to a family get-together. (Before that, I'd last drank in May 2016, with the staff of Big-Ass Sandwiches on the last day the restaurant was open.) I'd told myself not to have a drink again until I'd gotten full-time work. I'd earned that.
Soon I'll be, I hope, useful and helpful in a way that gets me paid.