Unfortunately, that is NOT the question in my case. I wish I could say that I had been born of such affluence that a down time of two weeks between jobs would not affect my stress levels or my comfort of living. As it is, I haven’t even reached a down time yet and I’m already stressing.

I have spent the last two and a half hours (which I know is not a long amount of time in the job search department, but it is certainly enough time in the stress inducing department) revising my resume, researching proper wording for my cover letter and subsequent revision, internet dermatology office stalking, and phone calls (all of which, I might add, were of no help to my position). I should really be stressing about my Ohio licensure test in less than two weeks. Instead, I’m biting my nails that when September 1st rolls around, I won’t have a job lined up and we all know that I am not one to bite my nails, as I take very good care of them!

In times like these, one begins to doubt their choice. For example: I counted out money today. I clipped the money into appropriate bundles (twenty-five $1s, clip, twenty $5s, clip, twenty-five $10s, clip…) and then, just for fun, I recounted all the bundles 3 times. I told myself I was checking for accuracy, but really I was doing it because the bills felt so good between my fingers again. I am not currency-obsessed because I desire to be full of rich and fame, but because I used to work at a bank and, truth be told, I miss it. I miss counting other people’s money.

Which brings me to my dilemma. I am paying off my student loans. What a waste to pay all that money and then go back to the very job that wore me out as I was juggling school and work. I feel like the only right thing to do is to pursue my [hopeful] career in esthetics. It’s just a shame that I have such great experience in a completely non-related work field. Even more a shame is that I long for a place where I am comfortable, where things are familiar, where I know what I’m doing; a place that feels as safe as when bills slip through my fingers, as safe as when numbers are controlled by my blind touch, and as safe as having “the Fed” be a part of my daily vocabulary.

I guess being safe isn’t in my line of duty, but, dang it, I wish it was. I’m going into unfamiliar territory and I hate it.