Archive for July 18th, 2006
Mr. Dearest
Tuesday, July 18th, 2006Every time I’m unemployed, I always think I’m gonna end up being a lot better at it than I turn out to be.
It’s a slam dunk on paper: My days free, I’ll wake up late, put on my clothes, take my credit card to the liquor store, and end up eating breakfast at noon. Then I’ll putter the afternoon away at the coffee shop, sporadically working on my novel and watching G.I. Joe clips online, capping my evenings off with some classic American cinema.
But it never pans out. Last time it happened to me, I was so preoccupied with money that I practically pulled my fingers off one by one, worrying about when I’d get work, when the enforcers from the credit card companies would show up, when the repo guys would come after my crappy 10-year-old used car. This time we’re in much better shape financially, having sold our house and part of my liver (I just keep growing more!) for a tidy profit, but of course now I’ve got Henry to take care of, which as any downtrodden Stay-at-home Mom can tell you, is pretty much the opposite of unemployment, only without the paycheck, and also you wipe a person’s butthole, which I’ve been lucky enough never to have had to do at any of my jobs thus far*.
Any stay-at-home parents are at this point officially encouraged to go read something else — not because you’re not welcome to read it, but because trust me, you’ve already heard all this shit before, and you don’t need to keep hearing it, I’m guessing; let it be officially acknowledged by this weblog that this entire post will consist of shit that’s been said before by better people than me.
* — Okay, fine, one time when I delivered pizzas, but how the fuck was I supposed to know it wasn’t expected of me for a tip? Look, fuck you, man.