The Return of the Job of Doom

I can't believe I just did what I just did.
On Tuesdays, I like to focus on hunting for a mundane job. I peruse the usual sights, applying for part-time or full-time positions that seem like a good fit.
This morning, while perusing a particular job site, I noticed a position with my old employer, the Job of Doom.  It was a local opening, a condensed full-time graveyard shift, four 10-hour days over the weekend.
I must admit that the job hunt, lackadaisical as I may be approaching it, has been tough.  It's been AGES since I got called for an interview.  Most of the time, applications just vanish into the either. 
When I left the Job of Doom, I said I'd give myself three years to have a go at writing.  It's been two. I've sold some books but they aren't exactly flying off the virtual shelves.  I'm still flush, but I'm now more aware of the money trickling away, since I'm now paying rent.
For a long while I dithered about whether or not to apply for the job.  It wasn't something I really wanted to do, but did I want to ignore it when it was there?
So, I flipped a coin. Heads and I would apply. Tails and I would walk away.
It came up heads.
Bloody heads.
So, I've tossed my hat back into the ring. Whether or not the ringmaster picks it up, though, is another matter altogether.
I still can't believe I just did what I did.