The outpouring of support and encouragement from you, O Best Beloved, really meant something. Being alone in $other_end_of_the_state and trying to control my emotions, I needed it. Now I've driven six hours home, I've slept, and I've seen my Angel. And the first thing he said when he saw the gift basket that was delivered to me in my hotel room was "Wow, that's a nice basket. Better than that cardboard box that $residency sent you." "That cardboard box" had been a winter gift basket full of cute little goodies, delivered to my home, and fairly nice. And I laughed.
I'm still hurting and a little empty and afraid. I still get a little sniffly. But when the doctor who wrote the review - a doctor I know from previous rotations, whom I did not see on this rotation - returns from his vacation, I think I can go to him without sounding like a hysterical child. And that's important. Because if there were one or two people on my rotation who didn't like me and earned me a poisoned review, then that's one thing. It colours but doesn't strike out $residency as an option. And I need to know. Selling a house we've only owned for 2 years, a house that had been on the market for a full year before we bought it, is a major undertaking, one not to be undertaken lightly.
Besides, we're getting a new washer and dryer delivered tomorrow. A spiffy Whirlpool front-loader. And you'd better believe I feel good about that.
Today, I think I'm going to try to relax for a while. Then get some work done. My car is a mess. There's laundry to do. The family room needs picked up. Lots of productivity, right?