It's not like it's the end of the world

I don't have a middle name, but I'm sure that if I had one right now, it would be Frustration. Shaman Frustration Dalie. It's day 214673 of waiting to hear from this really amazing job I applied for and see if they invite me to an interview, and they're taking a really long time. I spend my time finishing up my studies in Sports Psychology and looking wistfully at my mobile phone. A phone that is staying stubbornly quiet. Stupid, stupid phone. Maybe it's broken? Maybe...can't be...did I...did I give them the wrong number? Or is it really the end of the world soon as the Mayans predicted, so they won't even bother inviting people to an interview?

Does this mean there won't be any Christmas this year? Is the Grinch behind this whole end of the world business?

In an hour or so I'm planning on stopping this stomping around like a spoiled toddler on a tantrum and going for an easy run with AIK. It would have been great to be able to take my frustration out on a longer run, but my achy leg muscles just informed me that anything over 10km is out of the question - or else. Not sure what that ”or else” means, or else they'll never speak to me again? Or else they'll go on strike? Or else they'll find a nice couch potato whose legs they'll possess? I don't know. But I've decided not to test their patience, just to be on the safe side. 10K it is.

Maybe tomorrow. If the world is still here tomorrow, maybe they'll realise how perfect I am for this job and call me. Tomorrow.