Last Updated on: 21st March 2014, 06:54 am
I’m ancy. Every day, I’m ancy. Some days, I can’t focus on anything, because I’m so ancy! I’m sure I’m driving Steve absolutely, positively nuts some days because I’m constantly looking at the clock wondering if I’m going to get a call. You wanna know why? Because I still don’t know when I’m going away for my new guide dog!
I think about it all the time. I dream about it. It’s causing me to put my life on hold because I can’t look for work not knowing what block of time I’m going to be gone for, and it really wouldn’t be smart to get a job and, during that fragile 3 months of probation, say “Gee, boss, I’m going to be gone for a month.” I’ve gotten mixed opinions about how it would go over if I told them right up front. Some say if it was a year off in the future, they could see no problem, some say even if it was right now, it wouldn’t be a problem as long as you told them right at the time they offered you a job, and some go “Why do you need one right now? That’s going to so screw you up.” So, since finding a job is hard enough with the whole blink factor, I’m waiting until after I come back with fido in tow. Anyway, I’m rambling.
Because I just couldn’t take the ancy feelings anymore, last week, I called the school. Plus I wanted to know because I have things that have to be taken care of, I.E. tax crap, student loan crap, at a certain time, and I wanted to find out if I have to make other arrangements. I’m so anal about deadlines that unless I know if it’s going to be done, it bugs and bugs and bugs and bugs me!
It took me so long to dial the number because I was so nervous. The phone rang, and I held my breath. I asked to speak to Admissions. They put me through. I asked them the status of my case, I.E. if they have any new information, and said that my email has been a bit weird and I wanted to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. It hasn’t really been that weird, but I had to come up with a reason to not seem like a neurotic freak who was asking what was up, even though they said they’d give me 4-6 weeks’ warning. Time slowed down to a crawl, and I received…exactly no new information!
Raaaar!
All she could say was, “We’re looking for a match. We didn’t want you to have to come home in the snow. We’ll tell you as soon as we know.” Not even a remote idea about the chances of getting in in April, or May, or what.
I hung up the phone, and could feel the energy flowing out of me, like I was a balloon and someone had just done that thing where it makes that sputtering noise and flies across the room and lands flat on the floor, deflated. I lay on the bed, so sad. I know I shouldn’t have been sad, I wasn’t rejected or anything. But it was so disappointing to get no new information, no date to shoot for. I was suddenly afraid I could be going in June, or July, or August! Who the hell knows? I could be waiting for another year if they can’t find a match before the snow is flying again. They said something about a smaller, more manageable dog. My first thought was, how small? I can’t handle a giant, but Babs was a 50-pounder and she was a challenge but she was fine. Are they limiting their search too much? How long could my life be on hold, waiting, wondering, hoping, praying, thinking maybe now would be the time?
Let’s recap this little journey. I got the application packages from a couple schools, decided to go to the Ottawa school, came home with my beautiful Babs, had to retire her way too soon, had another interview way too soon, bombed it, said I’d try again when the spring came, then moved in the spring, had a second interview and aced it, and finally heard the news that I was accepted! I have invested so much time and hope and energy, it has to come true soon! It just has to!
So for now, I’ve started counting down to the day when Barbie goes for hers. 13 weeks and 6 days baby! That has given me something to look forward to, even though it’s not my own class date. I’ve been a geek and found the pages where the class dates are listed. I could be going in 6 weeks and 6 days, or 8 weeks and 6 days, or 10 weeks and 6 days, or 13 weeks and 6 days, or later, although hopefully not. I’m! still! ancy! God! damn! It!
