If you had asked me one year ago if I'd move to the country, I would have told you to get on yer bike. I'd done the Maynooth thing, even that was too much country for me! Where were the choice of shops? the Marks and Sparks? the people who didn't dress like everybody else? For me, it was Dublin (or possibly Boston, if they'd take Rob too), or nothing. I swore it would never happen.
If you asked me yesterday, if I'd move to the country, I would have told you I'd already accepted a job in Portlaoise. To be fair, it's a chance to work in GIS (which is why I suffered through Maynooth in the first place) and get that oh-so-important necessary experience on the Curriculum Vitae that has become so important in recessionary times. Plus, I've been given a pay rise - probably the only person in Ireland that can make this claim. So, to go back on a sworn promise is somewhat justified.
This week, I have to find a place to live. In a place I don't know, without people I do. I always thought that my first place would be with Rob, but some dreams have to go on hold in pursuit of others. I've decided to live alone, which while more expensive, I think the stress and anxiousness of a new job and new town is enough to add to the mix. Plus, I like my own space.
One year of data entry has a lot to answer for.
