Domestic Bliss... almost.

As Cory and I have both mentioned on our blogs before, we're obsessed with watching HGTV. I can't get enough of it. I think I may have missed my calling as an interior designer (though if you've ever seen the inside of my apartment, I'm sure you'd beg to differ).

Last week, I had a kind of informal job interview. I won't go into details except to say that it was a great job at the station of my dreams, and that the boss-type person who interviewed me led me to believe that I'd be back again in the very near future. A week has passed, not a word from the station. No reply to my "thank-you" email. No response to the voicemail from my agent.

That, in itself, is enough to make me really, really depressed. But I also spent way too much time online fantasizing about buying a house and redecorating it. Way, way, way too much time. This happens every time I get a nibble for a job (something that doesn't happen very often). Then, when I don't get the job, I go spiralling into depression.

The house thing is only part of it. Yeah, I'm sick of living in crappy apartments. The job thing, of course, is the major factor. It's pretty depressing when you apply for about 200 jobs a year and get just one or two interviews in that time. But there's another, even more pathetic reason why I get so depressed when I get rejected. See, Cory and I have sworn that we won't start planning our wedding until we've left Columbus. One of us, eventually, will find a good job, and we'll move, buy a house, and finally get married. Or maybe we'll be here forever.