Here's to Interviews and Insomnia

I interview today.  I'm scared.

I haven't slept well, the past couple of days, and I've been snippy as hell, I know, especially with my mom.  In addition to the resurgence of my chronic insomnia, I'm chafing at living at home.  I shut myself in my room more and more often, lately.  If the door is closed, it typically means "Do not bother me, please."  But there are some things that are so important that my solitude must be intruded upon.  Like my mom's friend sending her a pair of sunglasses in the mail. That is, apparently, an occurrence of earth-shattering importance.

So now I'm whining, I know.  I'm incredibly lucky to be able to live with family while I'm unemployed.  But at the same time, it's driving me crazy.  That's one of the reasons I want this job so badly: if I get a full-time gig, and get my side-business up and running, it will mean that I can move out, back down near Downtown Dallas and my friends.  I have not as yet succumbed to the siren song that is apartment websites, but that's only through sheer willpower.

Everything about the interview is freaking me out, such as "Did I buy the right color of pantyhose?"  This doesn't sound important to most people, I'm sure, but architecture is all about design.  Because I am slightly OCD about design, I coordinate EVERYTHING: my desk accessories must all be complimentary in texture and color; the objects in my purse must all coordinate in some way (they are all animal print with black patent leather trim); I carry 8 colors of lipstick in my purse so I'm sure to have one that will coordinate with my outfit.

This concern for my appearance causes me to obsess over little things, like the fit of a pair of pants that most people would consider acceptable, but that wrinkles in the wrong place in my estimation.  Into this category of Seemingly Unimportant Details goes the color of pantyhose I wear.

I have incredibly pale skin.  My Hispanic friends nicknamed me "Casper."  If I buy the color of hosiery that matches my skin, I look like I'm wearing white hosiery.  Seriously.

I always have to buy a darker color so the hosiery looks natural.  But then, I wonder, "Did I buy a pair that's too dark, or is this the right color?  Does one shade lighter look too light?"  I never can tell.

I have a million pairs of pantyhose in my closet, but I continually buy new ones, because I can't remember which color to buy, or I put them on and they're too shiny, or they have a tiny slub in them that is most likely noticeable only to myself, but then you never can tell.  I'm the sort of person to whom others say, "But nobody will notice."  Except I'm the person that always notices shortcomings of appearance, even on other people.

When I wear hosiery in the Winter (as dictated by the Southern Code of Conduct for Ladies), I usually wear knit-patterned tights or nude fishnets.  Yes, fishnets.  If they're not too thickly woven, or they're nude-colored, fishnets are quite tasteful, and they don't have to exactly match your skin.  But your skirt can't be too short.  If it is, then you just look like a cheap hussy.

(Creative Commons Licensed Image courtesy of Flickr User Bobster855.  Image may be found at http://www.flickr.com/photos/32912172@N00/3183277901/).