I completed the application in late October.  I felt a great sense of relief in knowing that the initial process was over and out of my hands.  I was able to breathe until late January. 

I was supposed to hear on or soon after January 30 if I had made it through the first round.  I was told by a friend/informant on January 29 that I had indeed made it. However, just days before, my advisor for the application process emailed me, concerned that my undergraduate email address was returning messages to her.  I soon learned that my undergraduate university eliminated all alumni accounts, and I no longer could access it.  Frantically, I emailed the only contact I had at IIE (Institute of International Education) for help.  Nothing.  Over two weeks later, I finally got in touch with him, and he gave me another person's information and told me to write her.  Within 10 minutes, I had a reply, including the official word that I was, indeed, a semi-finalist.

Nine days later, as I was ignoring most of life to finish my thesis review draft, I received a phone call informing me that I had made the short list.  She organized a phone interview for five days later.  This is the point at which I truly began to freak out.

I tried preparing talking points for the interview.  I tried anticipating what I would be asked.  I tried practicing speaking slowly, which is a big issue for me, not just when I am nervous.  I checked that my phone had reception for over an hour before our scheduled time.  I even parked myself into my bedroom window where I have the most reliable reception, just in case the sky suddenly turned grey and most cell phone signals were thwarted.

The call came in four minutes late.  No big deal, right? Those were the longest four minutes of my life.  When the call did come, I could only hear my own voice.  The call was terminated.  It took six minutes for them to call back.  I honestly thought I was going to cry.  Technological problems were going to keep me from getting my grant?  In those six minutes, I actually thought that I would fly to London if the phone situation didn't get any better.

But, it did.  And the interview went well.  They didn't ask a single question I anticipated, and I really had to think on my feet.  What is one thing that is happening in the UK right now that excites you?  I am a historian as much as a literary critic -- do I even know anything that is going on now? Think ahead a few minutes.  What will be the one think you wish you had told us about you and your research that you will forget to share?  If future-me has forgotten, how will present-me already know?  Don't you understand the future-perfect tense?  All in all, I managed to portray some semblance of brilliance, as the call was ended with: "In about four minutes, I think you will be jumping up and down when you realize just how marvelously you have performed in this interview."  I'll take it.

The interviewers left me with a book recommendation and the comforting notion that they would be making a decision within a few days.  I should look out for notification of acceptance.

A month later, I'm more nervous than ever.  Each day that passes is one more that I am not a Fulbrighter.  Maybe they told the recipients and are waiting to tell alternates and those who aren't offered anything.  Even though I got such good feedback from my interview, maybe I was the first call and everyone else wowed them far more.  Maybe they have my email address wrong again?  Maybe they already offered me a grant and rescinded it because I didn't accept quickly enough?  Maybe an email went into my spam folder and deleted itself?

On April 14, I arrive back home after housesitting for and visiting with my parents.  I had a big stack of mail waiting in my box; I couldn't tell you what all was there, but it was. IT. A big envelope with the return address listed as Institute for International Education.  And it was good.