I spent the better part of Monday night in fear. Collapsed on my friend Chelsea’s couch, I alternated between feelings of exhilaration and sheer terror. After my navigational ordeal in Jordan, I was comforted by my friend Chelsea. We spent the entire night sinking into her basement furniture, talking about life, too weak to open our eyes. I was then struck with the realization that while I had triumphed over Highway 169 and made it to Jordan for a great interview; I had magically forgotten to take pictures. I took this as a sign of my inevitable termination. My boss would see my incompetence and I’d be back to getting Carpal-Tunnel Syndrome as a professional ice cream scooper. How could I have squandered my dream in one afternoon, the first afternoon no less?

I frantically wrote a desperate email to my boss Melissa, begging for redemption and pleading for a second chance. I barely slept that night.

Tuesday, I came into work dressed for success. I figured that if I was a failure, it didn’t mean that my wardrobe had to be. I walked into Melissa’s office prepared for the downcast eyes and the ‘we need to talk’ facial expression. Instead, she smiled at me and told me that it was no problem. All of the stress I had piled on my shoulders was completely unnecessary. I didn’t get a reprieve, because I wasn’t even in trouble. I think that is the most depressing part of my ever-uplifting story.

Melissa told me that I had time to go back to Jordan and get a photo, as long as Mrs. Schenck had time. Well, I called Mrs. Schenck and she (again) couldn’t have been more kind. She invited me out to her farm, and I went to take pictures of her and a horse named Blackie’s Beauty.

Dressing for success is never a good idea. My cork heeled sandals sunk into the dirt and horse droppings at Heiland Hills Training Center. I also forgot to mention that my photography skills are non-existent. After some poorly lit and framed shots, I left the farm dressed like a socialite and smelling like a stable. I felt straight out of “The Simple Life,” before Paris went to prison. But hey, at least I didn’t get lost. If you want to see the fruits of my labor, be sure to pick up this week’s Southwest Saturday.