Don't interview in your pajamas

For this blog to make sense, some back story is important.  I'm working on that.  It's a long story. It involves calamities and investigations, doctors and lawyers, betrayal and intrigue.  I call the season of life just prior to this one, the collapse. It's the perfect word.  After the collapse, there was search and rescue then search and recovery.  There were two rounds of the five stages of grief and some international travel.  There was spinning, sleeping, and weeping.  Slowly there was some peace.  Now there is the waiting.  The next job or a great man to share my life with or both.  What's next?  It's the omnipresent question asked about 50 times a day - 25 by me, the other times by everyone else.  I HAVE NO IDEA.  I'm waiting.  For what?  I don't know.  God. Fate.  A sign.  Something.  Lately I wait for potential employers to call or email.  As I answered my cell phone at 7:50am I realized there is a major distinction between passively and actively waiting and I'd been doing too much of the former.  Running into the dining room in my pajamas, I fumbled to locate the ringing phone in my purse.  When I didn't recognize the number I considered letting it go to voicemail.  If it was a recruiter perhaps it might be wise to pull myself together.  Impetuously, an instinct fed by the tension of waiting all the damn time, I answered.  Sure, now is a perfect time to talk.  I can hear the gardeners outside starting the lawn mowers.  There I was moving room to room trying to escape the din of leaf blowers.  Out of breath already, I can hear the tea kettle in full shriek.  Why would I be an asset to your organization?  Let me see.  My sound judgement and strong organizational skills.  Quieting the tea kettle I can't seem to find a safe spot, pacing in the living room Lucy gives chase.  She hits me in the calves with her duck bear (the Starbucks bear dressed in a duck suit), growling for attention.  I babble on breathlessly while trying to escape the determined puppy.  I hung up with the recruiter knowing that my interview lacked a certain polish.  I poured my tea reflecting on the circumstances.  Yes. There it was, one of the calls I was waiting for and I forgot the rule: no one is impressive in their pajamas.