Buzzing bundle of excited euphoria.
An writer/editor opening has come up.
In my charity.
I am totally capable of doing it.
I can blast that job description to pieces.
My name has already been mentioned among those who make the decisions.
But I am about ten years younger than their ideal candidate.
It's another application to add to the seven already ongoing. But it's added.
I get the feeling I am destined to split in two - the caring psych support first aider and aspiring and ambitious writer/editor. Just when I think I have reached a decision something else jumps into the mixing pot.