Open door; insert foot.

Hello, everyone. I just want anyone who comes across this today to know that I, me, long-time essential worker and retail peon with dreams, received an offer for my first writing job this morning. That’s right. I did it. I will coast on the wave of positivity that has washed over me on this grand day. I will text everyone in my phone to inform them of my glory.

I will sing in the shower. I will deep condition and exfoliate. I will consider shaving, but decide against it. When I get out, soaking wet, I will look at my body in the unflattering mirror and say, “Damn, girl. You’re looking fly as all get out.” I’ll shoot my fingers guns in the air. I will moisturize my dry weenuses.

I will put the clean dishes away with a smile so big it leaves streaks in the foundation of my cheek creases. The dead leaves in my entryway will fail to bother me. I’ll wink suggestively to no one at all. At 11:11, I will thank the universe for the opportunity to try something new, but perhaps still wish for enough money to pay off all my debts and the debts of my loved ones. I’m only human.

Even though the day is gray, I will suck every last available drop of Vitamin D from the autumn sky, skipping like a child across the sidewalks with my well-mannered dog, who will not bark at the black and white outside cat who taunts him from across the street.

I will buy whatever toothpaste I want from the store today. Because I deserve it.

I will e-mail that beautiful, magical, wonderful unicorn of a hiring manager with all my information to move forward. And then I will do just that.

I’ll move forward.

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