Gun to the Head

I can't believe it," my mother said from her end of the phone, "I simply can't believe it. First you got married, and now this. Who would have thought a year ago that I would be hearing news like this!"

"I know!" I exclaimed from my end of the phone. "I'll get to go shopping for new clothes and everything!"

"It's a big thing," my mother added. "It will change your whole life, you know."

"I know," I said happily. "But I think it's time. That clock was ticking, and it was just time I did something about it."

"You're sure this is what you want?" my mother asked.

"It's too late to turn back now, isn't it?" I laughed. "I took the test, got a little pee on my hand, and everything says we're good to go."

"I can't wait to tell my friends!" my mother gushed.

"Well, maybe that's not such a good idea just yet," I suggested. "Maybe we should see if it sticks first. But you can tell Dad and the rest of the family."

"He's going to be so happy to find out that you're going to have"--my mother paused, I believe to wipe a tear of elation from her eye--"a job!"

A job.

I really couldn't believe it either. A job. After I had successfully passed the drug screening test (simply and vaguely put, I was a freelance writer with a mortgage payment and a husband in college who barely had enough money for a generic box of macaroni and cheese, let alone a hit of X just so I could have a good excuse to wear a Dr. Seuss hat), the newspaper at which I had been a freelance columnist also offered me a job as a columnist for the newspaper's website--a full-time gig. I could hardly pass the offer up; it was a good salary, came with health insurance, my potential boss seemed cool, and after I discovered that the 401(k) was not an annual marathon that every employee was required to participate in, I nodded and then we shook on it.

In all honesty, it was a relief...