Update: Lukewarm Steffi.

The job didn't pan out. Someone had tonnes of experience doing it. I had some, but nothing near "tonnes."

Que sera sera. I'm disappointed, sure, but I can't help wondering if maybe there's a good reason for it. I handled it all well, I wouldn't change anything.

I don't think it's a death knell or anything. I'm just frustrated I need to come up with a new plan. Maybe, after I pay next week's rent, I'll take a couple days to bust my ass and get resumes out.

Let's put it this way, since 1994, I've had eight job interviews. I got seven jobs, and accepted six of them. This is my first unsuccessful attempt in 11 years. But at least I'm setting my sights higher. Back to the plan of trying to get into publishing. Maybe poor, and publishing, is my ideal. Maybe wealthy, and not working in writing, is not.

I do know one thing: I'll sleep fine tonight anyhow. It is what it is, right?