This is the blog. A career-minded feminist with a good UK government job meets a handsome American man with a better US Government job. Add one ruby ring and a house on Capitol Hill. Result: a protracted struggle with the US immigration system. And a lot of down time...
Monday, 23 May 2011
Not the End of the World
"Don't make me come down there!"
Are you still there, readers?
Is it safe for me to come out now?
I've been hiding under the sheets, afraid of the End of the World which was prophesied for May 21st 2011 in an earlier blog entry.
Alas, the world did not end afterall. So I've now started work on my UK tax return.
On my first day out from under the sheets, I've given the practice Nurse a sample of blood to prove to the US Embassy I've had a childhood injection she'd lost the paper trail for. I'd find her misplacing of my health records faintly concerning but then I guess that's why they call her a "practising" Nurse..... (Hey, it's ok if you groaned at that joke.)
Still no visa interview date from the Embassy. I'm also still broke and while my recruitment agent faffs around finding me "something in the right league" Hank has agreed to take action to avoid me raiding my savings. Starting tomorrow, we're renting the unused parking space on our driveway for a month to someone who works at the Senate, a few blocks away. Hank is also meeting tonight with an intern looking to rent a room on the Hill for six weeks. Should he move in, this would also provide some much-needed "man company" for Hank while I'm away. This potential renter looks to be a good chap with a solid French government and banking background. So keep your fingers crossed for Hank that he's not a psycho.
It's warm out and not too bad being in London right now - separation from husband and hound notwithstanding - except for a nagging feeling that I should be getting on with my career and not stalling like this. A bad dream which used to recur when I was a 29-year old still-entrance-grade employee has raised its ugly head again. I'll tell you more about that dream when I write my long-overdue entry on "turning thirty". But for now, keep your fingers crossed for a call from my recruitment agent to get me back in the workplace before Doom's Day.
Going cheap: five RVs. One careful, deluded owner.