Meanwhile, I've contacted a few colleagues here and there to ask about postdoc positions. I don't want a postdoc. I don't like the idea of moving someplace far away to start a new job and right from the day I arrive knowing that I'll have to pick up and leave in twelve months, or even two years. It takes most of that first year just to find doctors we trust and can work with, get insurance sorted out, find all the good restaurants that are compatible with willowisp's allergies, establish a social life... and by that time it's time to say goodbye again.
The only consolation is that so far, almost none of the rejections or maybe-laters that I've run into have had anything to do with merit. It doesn't make me feel much better -- I can't buy groceries with it, or pay for a refill on prescriptions -- but at least it's nothing to do with me.
Bah. I hate job-hunting. I hate COBRA, too, but that's a different rant.