One of the side effects of my scar tissue on my brain is that my sense of elapsed time is messed. In my head, everything in the past is virtually yesterday, and everything in the future is tomorrow.
If the rumours are correct, I will be given notice in September that my current position will end March 31st.
Which, as my darling older brother pointed out, is not actually tomorrow. I really don't have to have my plan in place by tomorrow night. I can take some time to think. To research and to plan.
After all, the job market sucks at the beginning of summer, when everyone has access to student labour.
I am writing that down so I can remember it. I may post it on my bathroom mirror, too, just to be safe.
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