Life, that is. (Warning: big time whining, kvetching and moaning ahead. If you don't wanna read it, and OH BOY I wouldn't blame you, there are socks-in-progress at the end.)
I am a big whiny depressed ball of blah, ladies and gentlemen. Looking for jobs SUCKS ASS. Truly, madly, deeply, not even kidding. Right now we're applying for any job that might possibly pay the bills, in any state we think we could afford to live in. Currently, the plan is, we move to wherever the first place one of us gets a job. Montana, Texas (shudder), Phoenix (double shudder), Utah, Colorado, whatever. At this point, most of DH's job prospects involve much travel, so if he gets one of those I might not have to go anywhere, but I myself have applied for jobs in DH's home town, Phoenix, Tucson, Austin, SLC, and San Diego. And Denver, I think. It's surprising to me that I suddenly WANT to work and would be looking for jobs even if DH was raking in buckets-o-cash. I miss talking to adults each day (specifically those who don't think that everything I say is an invitation for afternoon delights. Seriously, ONE TRACK in that mind). I miss using my brain for things besides crossword puzzles and figuring out what the hell noob mistake I just made in my knitting. (I miss my cleaning lady most of all.)
Couple that with crappy windy weather (the Bug says, "Mama, it's winding out here!" and I think that's hilarious) and the fact that I realized cousins of the DH lost their first daughter ten years ago on the date of my wedding anniversary and I watched their tribute video and cried my fucking eyes out, and I haz sad. Oh yeah, and when the guy at the bank told me he'd stopped the payment I'd wanted stopped, and it wouldn't go through? Yeah, jerk lied, and there was no record of it, and the bank decided it was all my issue, but decided to rescind two of the NINE overdraft charges I got as a result, you know, to be magnanimous, and let's just say I'm NOT HAPPY WITH MY BANK and we had to pay back the overdrafts with the money I was planning to send to the medical bills from Squeak's birth because prenatal care was covered but not the actual birth, and I'm so resentful that I owe the damn anethesiologist $350 for NOT GETTING THERE IN TIME.
I'm tired and depressed and tired of being depressed and depressed about being tired and MY GOD DAYTIME TV SUCKS and someday when I have a job and I'm whining about having to work someone PLEASE remind me of this dumbass post so I can remember what a loser I turn into when I'm not working and stressed about money.
And now, lovely challah from the 5-minute book, and some socks-in-progress. (I made caramel pecan rolls from the first ball of challah dough, for Easter morning, but those got et so fast there were no pictures. You should make some.)
March PSC, sock #2, almost at the heel.
April PSC, sock #1, long term project.