Pop Tarts

People, people, gather round. Here be more announcements. I know, I know, how could I do this to you. Weeks of silence and now I blog like it's going out of fashion (which, as it happens, I'd never do, having little to no regard for fashion (as I hope you'll remember from my Haircut Fairydust experience about a dozen posts below this one)). I've been fixing excel formulas all afternoon, and now double brackets seem to me like a sensible way to comunicate.

Order, Kid, you have announcing to do. Yes, breathe, remember.

Lets start with what I'd like to be announcing, and then not announce it. What I'm not announcing right now is what I've been dreaming the past two, possibly three nights. I can never really tell - sometimes I dream about 4 days in one night and subsequently can't remember when I did which bit of dreaming. My imagination is wasted on my wakeful self. I keep dreaming that the couple who run the Lazy Duck Hostel and Campsite in Nethy Bridge where I spent three months of this summer living and helping out (and I'm still not on their website (humph))*, phone me up, declare that they're leaving the country to retire/run from the law/tax dodge/take over Russia (delete as you see fit), and ask me to come run the place. I get very excited, get all worried about the loneliness and then wake up. No announcements here. Move along, nothing to see.

Next up, announcements...

wait for it...

I'm so mean...

Ok then.

I'm eating Pop Tarts! Ta-Daa!

Why yes, this is the announcement. You see, I'm only allowed to eat Pop Tarts if it's been a really good day or a really bad day. Today may have been both, so I'm allowed.
Today itself was a bit crappy. I went to work (office job), felt funny, did boring stuff, didn't really know anyone and desperately tried not to keel over or fall asleep. Not amazing as far as days go. Last night is more interesting. I got a phone call. Oh yes I did. In two weeks (two weeks tomorrow to be precise) I've been invited along to a police station where I'll do the first parts of the entrance test. Woot! Now I have two weeks to determine whether or not I'm capable of running 1.5 miles comfortably in less than 14 minutes, and if I can't then make it so that I can. Frankly, I probably can, so I'll just keep dancing as much as is available to me between now and then.

And then (there's more!) if I pass the first tests - information skills and reading and numbers alongside the fitness test - then I get a free lunch. And then I get to stay and sit some more tests. Isn't that exciting.

It's mostly exciting because it means that they haven't forgotten about me and now I get to do something active about getting a few more baby steps along the application process.

The phone call was last night, but it wasn't till today that I realised I was excited about it. So I came home, made tea and pop tarts and changed in to my most oversized jeans (fresh and crunchy out of the wash) and my softest folk festival tshirt (from a folk festival I didn't even go to) and collapsed on the sofa to tell you, dear bloggies, all about it.

So there.   :P


*Hey, stop with the multiple brackets, will you!