6 hours of exercise: hour one.

So I got scheduled for an interview yesterday. Still under the weather, I decided to go anyway. I mean, I'd been slave to the toilet for like... 2 days already. I hadn't eaten anything, so I should be fine. Showered, dressed up, put on a little makeup. Started hoofing it to my train.

I decided to take the train that's further away from my place because I certainly wasn't going to be able to go to the gym yet in my current state of don't-poop-your-pants. I kinda booked it because I was excited about the interview.

The train was taking FOREVER. Meanwhile, My hair is starting to dry and some of the moisture was finding it's way down my forehead. Not unusual. Then I started feeling clammy everywhere else. Whatever, Nanette, just take off your jacket. Cool down. No need to run anywhere.

The ride was horrible. Tons of people in a tiny car. Everyone touching. Humid. I'm still clammy and doing anything I can to catch a little breeze.

I hopped off the subway and got up to some fresh air. Thank God. Still sticky and trying to sorta slow down and give myself a second to breathe and cool down and calm down, I sorta meandered toward the job interview. I found the building pretty easily. Showed my ID. Got on the elevator... went full body clammy again. My wet hair still hadn't dried. Humidity? Sweat? Gross.

The gentleman met me for the interview... I sat down and filled out some more paperwork and tried not to drip on my light-colored sateen jacket. My eyes weren't fully focusing. A fever was setting in. I finished the paperwork with a few scribble out errors (ugh!) and sat down for my interview with the business owner. He had a fan in his office. I feel that was my only respite.

I tried too hard to be friendly. I came off cavalier and entitled. I dropped a name. I discussed the Tony's (it's a garment place). I sat in my puddle thinking "god, I hope my dress doesn't look like I peed myself when I stand up." It was a terrible interview. On the way out the gentleman asked if I needed to use the restroom. I didn't know if that was a sign? Did I look like I'd peed myself? Like I needed to collect my thoughts or something? Did I have a sense of urgency about me? Maybe.

"I was planning on stopping by on my way out. Just near the elevator, right?"

"You'll need this." He hands me the key attached to a lacy thong.

Maybe he only offered because that's the polite and mannered thing to do? I don't know. I've never offered my toilet to someone on their way out. Is that a New York thing?

Anway, I berated myself the entire way home. I blew the interview. It would have been such a great work space too. Lots of clients, fast-paced. IMPORTANT work. ugh. Sitting on the train, I started getting light headed. And the lady next to me with the perma-sourpuss face kept rubbing up against my arm fat, making me more uncomfortable about my current dewiness.

I stopped at the corner store on my way home and bought 3 gatorades. Drank one on the way home. Felt my head come back to earth. Drank one while I told Shasta (roommate) about the terrible day. Drank one and fell asleep.

Didn't get the laundry done. Didn't get a call back on the interview.

However...

Didn't poop myself either.

And I got about an hour of walking in. (1/6 of the way there on the weekly challenge).

So it wasn't a completely negative experience. Still sick. Still dehydrated. Still have another interview tomorrow. I will blow them away. They will hire me. I WILL HAVE JOB.

Big Fat Fever-ing Love,
Nanette