gushing

A few pints in me, so I'm probably not as self-censorious as I usually am. If that's even a bloody word. After an exceptionally fucking generous offer from institution of the aforesaid, and a few minor questions I asked via email this afternoon, which (in the run-on sentence I'm crafting here) were responded to in a matter of hours, I formally accepted the offer earlier this evening. Of course, I would have taken the job for a few crusts of bread and a kick in the teeth, but it was nice of them to negotiate the kick down to a punch. Or, rather, an insanely flattering offer that has me feeling rather a fraud, as if I've deceived an entire department and search committee, somehow. Value, use-value, exchange-value, price, I know, but this is crazy.

So my 3-sentence email was forwarded to the entire department and staff, and my lovingly, beautifully, exquisitely crafted attachment of the formal letter of acceptance? Nowhere to be seen. Sigh. Written for the broadest audience possible, and the email addressed to the chair is circulated to god knows how many. And still! They're gushing. The emails welcoming me to the department are arriving fast and furious. It's almost embarassing. But, calculatedly, I'll be responding to them tomorrow during more regular hours, rather than after drinking with friends. Call me crazy.

Or, as a friend phrased it to me, "You Win." Which is an AWFUL way to think about all of this, but compared to what I thought was a certain future in North Dakota, it does feel as if I've won. They can gush, I'm gushing too...