I’m a firm believer in the fact that everything happens for a reason. What the reason is sometimes isn’t apparent until later, but lately I’ve been thinking about how some of the stuff I’ve gone through in my life has helped me understand people better today.
For example, the last post I wrote about being totally depressed and how miserable my life was for that whole month. At about the same time, one of my youth group girls was going through a really hard time – she had gone away to college and was having a really hard time adjusting, and ended up being really depressed and needing to go to therapy and get medication and all that. I’ve said before that depression is a hard thing for people who’ve never experienced it to understand – and it is. So one day when I was feeling really sad, I was talking to my mom, and she said told me that even though what I was going through was really hard, maybe the reason why was so that I could understand my girl better and know how to help her, because her family didn’t understand. Plus, they’re bizarre. Anyway.
Thinking about it that way made it better. Yes, it sucked that I felt so awful. But that I could be helpful and understanding and supportive of my girl made it so that at least it wasn’t just for nothing. That may not be the best way to put it, but you get it.
Now I’ve got another girl going through a hard time, and I can be there for her and help her to understand what she needs to do and that it’s ok to feel bad. There’s no shame in getting help and in fact, not getting help is a horrible mistake. She’s recently been dealing with a psycho boy at her high school – it’s snowballed out of control into harassment and police involvement, and the thing about that is, I totally understand that too. When I was a freshman, there was this horrible sophomore girl who thought I was trying to steal her boyfriend and she made my life miserable the entire year. No police were ever involved, but my mom was, which if you know my mom and how protective she is of us, it’s almost kinda worse than the police.
Not to overthink it, but sometimes I think I’ve been preparing my entire life to be able to understand these kids and all the stuff they have to deal with that maybe their parents can’t understand. And if that’s the reason I’ve had to have some hard times and heartbreak, well, I’m totally ok with that.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Blast from the (sort of secret) past
Back in January, I had the worst month of my entire life. I was unbelievably depressed – I used up about 100 hours of sick time that month, because the thought of going to work was so overwhelming that I couldn’t even get out of bed. I cried all the time, because I didn’t know how else to deal with it. Luckily I had a really caring and understanding boss, and lots of help from people who loved me. I started a “secret” blog, because I needed to write stuff down, but I didn’t feel like it was something I could share with my regular readers (and friends) right then.
It’s far enough behind me now that I can post what I wrote then without feeling totally freaked out – in fact, I don’t feel freaked out at all. I’m in a really good place now, and I look back at what I wrote and I remember those awful feelings and I never want to feel that way again. To be totally honest, I’m sort of scared of January – I’m scared that I’ll have a breakdown again. I know I don’t have to worry – it’s not the MONTH, it’s the place where I was back then. And I’m not there anymore. But there’s still that little fear in the back of my head. I look at all the stuff I wrote then and I remember how I felt and THAT was fear. I was scared of how bad I felt and how powerless I felt to change it.
Anyway. Here it is. January 5, 2006.
Have you ever had a day where you wanted to take absolutely everything back? Everything you did, everything you said, everything you thought, even everything that you felt?
Have you ever done something completely stupid and even in the moment, when you’re actually doing it, you KNOW it’s stupid, you’re fully aware of it, and yet? Done.
Have you ever spent an entire day (or days, as the case may be) thinking yourself into a black hole in which the sheer force of the thoughts are pulling you into an inescapable vortex of awfulness? Like where there’s maybe one tiny thing bothering you, or something random irritated you. And then the next completely unrelated thing that happens (or doesn’t happen) not only magnifies the tiny thing, but then magnifies itself in the process. The next minor irritation magnifies the first two and before you know it, it’s three days later and you’re laying with your face on your desk, crying and wondering how you’re going to make it through the next 2 and a half hours before you can go home.
Have you ever said something that the second it’s out of your mouth (or out in cyberspace) you wish you’d never said it? It’s impossible to take back. You’re fucked. And quite possibly, depending on who you said it to, the un-take-backable (YES, it’s a word – at least NOW it is) ridiculousness that seemed like a fine idea a mere second ago has most likely caused irreparable damage to your relationship with the person you said it to. And no matter what you say after the fact, there’s no possible way to explain away what you said without either making things worse or sounding like a neurotic crazy person. Neither of those are good options. How do you tell someone that the stupid thing you said wasn’t really about them at all, but a result of the awful thought vortex and the self-magnifying random shit? And that that, coupled with your penchant for occasionally being overdramatic AND the above mentioned acts of stupidity collides in what can only be described as a hurricane of self-destruction in which they are the confused and unwitting victim? You can’t. At least not without sounding like a neurotic crazy person.
It’s a day (or days) that you can’t take back. Days in which every decision you made, every word out of your mouth, every thought in your head, was clouded by the hurricane. It’s days when your usually sane and rational and mellow and laid-back self was (if we’re going with the hurricane theme) blown into a wall, knocked unconscious and was taking entirely too long to shake it off. SHAKE IT OFF!! Damn. So now it’s shaken off, but you look back at the path of destruction and wish, over and over, that you could take it all back.
Has any of this happened to anyone? Yeah, me neither. I was just wondering.
It’s far enough behind me now that I can post what I wrote then without feeling totally freaked out – in fact, I don’t feel freaked out at all. I’m in a really good place now, and I look back at what I wrote and I remember those awful feelings and I never want to feel that way again. To be totally honest, I’m sort of scared of January – I’m scared that I’ll have a breakdown again. I know I don’t have to worry – it’s not the MONTH, it’s the place where I was back then. And I’m not there anymore. But there’s still that little fear in the back of my head. I look at all the stuff I wrote then and I remember how I felt and THAT was fear. I was scared of how bad I felt and how powerless I felt to change it.
Anyway. Here it is. January 5, 2006.
Have you ever had a day where you wanted to take absolutely everything back? Everything you did, everything you said, everything you thought, even everything that you felt?
Have you ever done something completely stupid and even in the moment, when you’re actually doing it, you KNOW it’s stupid, you’re fully aware of it, and yet? Done.
Have you ever spent an entire day (or days, as the case may be) thinking yourself into a black hole in which the sheer force of the thoughts are pulling you into an inescapable vortex of awfulness? Like where there’s maybe one tiny thing bothering you, or something random irritated you. And then the next completely unrelated thing that happens (or doesn’t happen) not only magnifies the tiny thing, but then magnifies itself in the process. The next minor irritation magnifies the first two and before you know it, it’s three days later and you’re laying with your face on your desk, crying and wondering how you’re going to make it through the next 2 and a half hours before you can go home.
Have you ever said something that the second it’s out of your mouth (or out in cyberspace) you wish you’d never said it? It’s impossible to take back. You’re fucked. And quite possibly, depending on who you said it to, the un-take-backable (YES, it’s a word – at least NOW it is) ridiculousness that seemed like a fine idea a mere second ago has most likely caused irreparable damage to your relationship with the person you said it to. And no matter what you say after the fact, there’s no possible way to explain away what you said without either making things worse or sounding like a neurotic crazy person. Neither of those are good options. How do you tell someone that the stupid thing you said wasn’t really about them at all, but a result of the awful thought vortex and the self-magnifying random shit? And that that, coupled with your penchant for occasionally being overdramatic AND the above mentioned acts of stupidity collides in what can only be described as a hurricane of self-destruction in which they are the confused and unwitting victim? You can’t. At least not without sounding like a neurotic crazy person.
It’s a day (or days) that you can’t take back. Days in which every decision you made, every word out of your mouth, every thought in your head, was clouded by the hurricane. It’s days when your usually sane and rational and mellow and laid-back self was (if we’re going with the hurricane theme) blown into a wall, knocked unconscious and was taking entirely too long to shake it off. SHAKE IT OFF!! Damn. So now it’s shaken off, but you look back at the path of destruction and wish, over and over, that you could take it all back.
Has any of this happened to anyone? Yeah, me neither. I was just wondering.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door!
So I’m housesitting at Sally & Joe’s this weekend, and last night, Ian was here too. I was laying in bed, watching CSI, and he came in shooting a laser tag gun. He was allegedly testing it out for a work thing (he works with kids) but I have my doubts. I think he just wanted to play. So once he stopped shooting and falling into gun stances all around the room, I asked him if he had shut the garage door. He said yes.
Anyway, this morning I got up and walked into the living room. It was early, and so it was still dark, but I could see the outline of SOMETHING on the floor. GREAT. I turned on the kitchen light and saw that it was a giant bird’s wing. I knew exactly where it had come from – Joe ties some elaborate flies down in his office, and uses bird feathers in some of them. I picked up the wing and went downstairs, where, sure enough, the door to his office was wide open. I shut it and went back upstairs to feed the dog. I opened the door to the garage to get her food and what do you know, the door is WIDE OPEN. I knew Ian wasn’t up yet, so this must mean he did NOT, in fact, close the door the night before. I went and woke him up and I was like “Did you go into Joe’s office last night?” He said yeah. So I told him about the bird wing. Then I said “Also? You totally did NOT close the garage door last night.” And he said “Oops – good thing I’m not the housesitter”. Ha. Very funny. I had to go to work and I told him that under no circumstances was he to unlock any of the doors in the house. He could go out the side door when he left, which locks by itself. Because clearly he has a while before he can be trusted to lock up the house himself. Yeah. He’s 30.
The bird wing reminds me of an incident a couple of years ago when I was housesitting here and I pretty much killed one of their canaries. One of the birds was sick, and so Sally had him in one of the bedrooms with the door closed so he would be warmer. She said he might die, and if he did, that was ok. So I went in to check on him before I left for work and he was kind of listlessly sitting on his perch. When I got home that evening, I walked down the hall to check on him again, and to my absolute horror, the bedroom door was open. I went in, and the cage was knocked over, it was empty, and there was a spot on the carpet that looked suspiciously like blood. This is how my thought process went (oh, and if you know me BUT AT ALL, you know this isn't a SHORT thought process. Buckle in, party people):
Oh god. The cats got the bird. They’re just milling around, not meowing for food, and I swear they’re licking their chops. Shit. They ate the bird. Damn. Damn damn damn. They ATE! THE! BIRD!!! Wait, wait. There aren’t any feathers anywhere – if they ate the bird, there would have to be feathers somewhere. Ok, let’s be rational. Maybe the bird got away and is hiding in the house somewhere. Great. This house is not small. Look under everything. Call the bird. Curse the cats as they follow you around, watching in what you can only believe is amusement as you crawl all over the house. Stop and look closely at the cats’ mouths – you don’t see any blood, so the “bird as snack” scenario is looking less and less likely. Whew. But WHERE is that effing BIRD? Go downstairs and crawl around down there, looking under everything. Be followed by the cats, who are “pretending” to help. Why, WHY didn’t that door close all the way! Ok. You looked everywhere you possibly could. Go upstairs and vacuum up the spilled birdseed and think of how you’re going to explain this to Sally. Do you pretend that the bird died and you disposed of the body? Maybe. But further thought vetoes that idea. One, it would be out of character for me to dispose of the body. Two (and perhaps most importantly) what if the cats HID the bird, so that when their mom comes home, they could give her a “welcome home” gift. Yeah, Sally? Your bird died and I buried him in the compost pile. What? The cats brought him to you one morning? Hmmm. How DO I explain that. Uh, they must have dug him up from the compost pile when they NEVER GO OUTSIDE. This will never work. Plus, I’m a horrible liar and I hate lying. Ok. Go to bed (after carefully inspecting every inch to make sure there’s no oh, I don’t know, BIRDIE CORPSE in the bed with you) and think about it in the morning. Morning comes. You decide honesty is the best policy. Call Sally in Maine and tell her that you killed her bird. “No you didn’t,” she says “he was sick anyway.” Politely disagree and tell her that no, you’re pretty sure you and/or the cats killed the bird. Oh, and the icing on THAT cake is that you can’t find him. Ok then! Have fun in Maine! Go downstairs to watch t.v., and find the bird, ALIVE, sitting in the middle of the rug. Where, I might add, he totally was not the night before. Pick him up and put him back in his cage, and close the door. For real this time. Call Sally and tell her, oops! Ha ha! False alarm! The bird is not dead! Which may have been a premature call, as he died later that day. Poor guy.
Seriously. Who does stuff like that happen to? Oh right – me.
Anyway, this morning I got up and walked into the living room. It was early, and so it was still dark, but I could see the outline of SOMETHING on the floor. GREAT. I turned on the kitchen light and saw that it was a giant bird’s wing. I knew exactly where it had come from – Joe ties some elaborate flies down in his office, and uses bird feathers in some of them. I picked up the wing and went downstairs, where, sure enough, the door to his office was wide open. I shut it and went back upstairs to feed the dog. I opened the door to the garage to get her food and what do you know, the door is WIDE OPEN. I knew Ian wasn’t up yet, so this must mean he did NOT, in fact, close the door the night before. I went and woke him up and I was like “Did you go into Joe’s office last night?” He said yeah. So I told him about the bird wing. Then I said “Also? You totally did NOT close the garage door last night.” And he said “Oops – good thing I’m not the housesitter”. Ha. Very funny. I had to go to work and I told him that under no circumstances was he to unlock any of the doors in the house. He could go out the side door when he left, which locks by itself. Because clearly he has a while before he can be trusted to lock up the house himself. Yeah. He’s 30.
The bird wing reminds me of an incident a couple of years ago when I was housesitting here and I pretty much killed one of their canaries. One of the birds was sick, and so Sally had him in one of the bedrooms with the door closed so he would be warmer. She said he might die, and if he did, that was ok. So I went in to check on him before I left for work and he was kind of listlessly sitting on his perch. When I got home that evening, I walked down the hall to check on him again, and to my absolute horror, the bedroom door was open. I went in, and the cage was knocked over, it was empty, and there was a spot on the carpet that looked suspiciously like blood. This is how my thought process went (oh, and if you know me BUT AT ALL, you know this isn't a SHORT thought process. Buckle in, party people):
Oh god. The cats got the bird. They’re just milling around, not meowing for food, and I swear they’re licking their chops. Shit. They ate the bird. Damn. Damn damn damn. They ATE! THE! BIRD!!! Wait, wait. There aren’t any feathers anywhere – if they ate the bird, there would have to be feathers somewhere. Ok, let’s be rational. Maybe the bird got away and is hiding in the house somewhere. Great. This house is not small. Look under everything. Call the bird. Curse the cats as they follow you around, watching in what you can only believe is amusement as you crawl all over the house. Stop and look closely at the cats’ mouths – you don’t see any blood, so the “bird as snack” scenario is looking less and less likely. Whew. But WHERE is that effing BIRD? Go downstairs and crawl around down there, looking under everything. Be followed by the cats, who are “pretending” to help. Why, WHY didn’t that door close all the way! Ok. You looked everywhere you possibly could. Go upstairs and vacuum up the spilled birdseed and think of how you’re going to explain this to Sally. Do you pretend that the bird died and you disposed of the body? Maybe. But further thought vetoes that idea. One, it would be out of character for me to dispose of the body. Two (and perhaps most importantly) what if the cats HID the bird, so that when their mom comes home, they could give her a “welcome home” gift. Yeah, Sally? Your bird died and I buried him in the compost pile. What? The cats brought him to you one morning? Hmmm. How DO I explain that. Uh, they must have dug him up from the compost pile when they NEVER GO OUTSIDE. This will never work. Plus, I’m a horrible liar and I hate lying. Ok. Go to bed (after carefully inspecting every inch to make sure there’s no oh, I don’t know, BIRDIE CORPSE in the bed with you) and think about it in the morning. Morning comes. You decide honesty is the best policy. Call Sally in Maine and tell her that you killed her bird. “No you didn’t,” she says “he was sick anyway.” Politely disagree and tell her that no, you’re pretty sure you and/or the cats killed the bird. Oh, and the icing on THAT cake is that you can’t find him. Ok then! Have fun in Maine! Go downstairs to watch t.v., and find the bird, ALIVE, sitting in the middle of the rug. Where, I might add, he totally was not the night before. Pick him up and put him back in his cage, and close the door. For real this time. Call Sally and tell her, oops! Ha ha! False alarm! The bird is not dead! Which may have been a premature call, as he died later that day. Poor guy.
Seriously. Who does stuff like that happen to? Oh right – me.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Well hi there!!
I just thought I’d stop by my own blog and say hello to all of you, since I’ve been seriously remiss in keeping up with your blogs. I blame my new job. I mean, no one told me that having a job means actually having to WORK! I’m just kidding – I love love LOVE the fact that I’m busy at the job. It’s so great to look up at the clock and realize that hours have passed without my even noticing it. So yeah, it’s busy, and as soon as I get my own workspace with my own computer, I may have more time to visit everyone during the work day. Because after hours of sitting in front of the computer doing design and page layouts, I don’t really have the desire to hang out much in front of the computer when I get home. AND I’ve been too busy to do a lot of home computering lately anyway. It’ll slow down, but for now, I’m just adjusting to my new schedule.
So yeah. Because I’m such a party animal and it’s nearly 10 p.m., I’m going to bed. Although in my defense, I stayed awake last night watching season 3 of “Arrested Development” on DVD while P.I.C. and The Bad Cop fell asleep. That NEVER happens – I usually always outsleep those two. But since AD is totally my favorite show, and I was so excited about the new season, well, I stayed awake. It might have also had to do with the large amount of Coke I drank earlier in the evening when I was trying to get rid of a headache. Then when I went home, my cats ever so sweetly woke me up three hours before I needed to get up this morning by running through the house like a herd of elephants and meowing loudly. I was angry.
Anyway. Nighty night and I’m sure I’ll have all kinds of terrific construction industry related stories for you in the near future. I know you’re excited about that, even if you won’t admit it…
So yeah. Because I’m such a party animal and it’s nearly 10 p.m., I’m going to bed. Although in my defense, I stayed awake last night watching season 3 of “Arrested Development” on DVD while P.I.C. and The Bad Cop fell asleep. That NEVER happens – I usually always outsleep those two. But since AD is totally my favorite show, and I was so excited about the new season, well, I stayed awake. It might have also had to do with the large amount of Coke I drank earlier in the evening when I was trying to get rid of a headache. Then when I went home, my cats ever so sweetly woke me up three hours before I needed to get up this morning by running through the house like a herd of elephants and meowing loudly. I was angry.
Anyway. Nighty night and I’m sure I’ll have all kinds of terrific construction industry related stories for you in the near future. I know you’re excited about that, even if you won’t admit it…
Monday, September 04, 2006
Melon calling and Milahd
I was sitting in my parents’ yard today and as I looked around, I realized that today is the unofficial official last day of summer. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the end of summer so acutely – the past five years have been filled with work, so a summer day was just like a winter day, only hotter. I went to the office and I came home. Sure, I went on trips with the kids and did things outside, but the time flew by and it was mostly a series of “just another days.”
Obviously this summer was different. I went places with the kids. I hung out with my friends. I went to the pool at my complex for the first time ever, and I’ve lived here for three summers. I’ve loved every minute of my freedom from my job – I can’t tell you enough how thankful I am that that place is no longer and that because of that, I was able to take the time off that I needed to. I got to have summer and I LOVED it!
Fall is one of my favorite seasons. I love the change in the air – the nights are much chillier and even though we ate dinner outside at Sally and Joe’s last night, we had a fire going in the chiminea and sweatshirts on. It was beautiful out, and when I went to bed, I took my hair out of a ponytail, and it smelled like fire smoke. I love that smell. I love the smell of the crisp air, and I love the smell of fires burning in fireplaces. I love the colors of fall and I love the things that fall means. High school football games, carving pumpkins, a fire in my fireplace. I love that even though fall is an end for so many things, it’s always been a beginning for me.
I’ve started my last few jobs in the fall. Five years ago in October, I began my job at my now-defunct company. The fall before that I started working at REI. And now, tomorrow I start yet another new job. It’s exciting. It’s the promise that things will change and even though I fear change, I also love it. New people, a new place, new stuff to learn and do.
I’ve also began a lot of my relationships in the fall. My college boyfriend and I began dating in the fall and a year later, we got engaged in the fall. I started seeing my last serious boyfriend, the one I was with for four and a half years, in the fall. And two years ago, I started seeing Not Boyfriend in the fall.
So I guess it’s not weird that when fall comes around, I feel melancholy. Or “melon calling” as Kendra used to say. I was thinking about how to write about all of this, and I remembered that last year at this time, I was feeling the same way. I went back and read this entry, and the first paragraph kind of sums up how I feel right now. In the arena of melon-calling, that is. The entry ends with me keeping my fingers crossed for things to work out with Not Boyfriend, and a year later, they totally have. He’s living in another state, but we’ve stayed close friends. We talk about once a week, sometimes more, sometimes less. When he comes back to Denver, he makes time to see me. I still love him, it’s just a different love now, and I no longer hold on to the hope that we’ll be together. I still miss him, but how could you not miss a friend who’s far away?
As far as the other side of the coin, well, I got that covered as well. The job is new. The routine is new. The people will be new. The stuff I learn will be new. It’s the beginning of something that might last long, but that might not. It’s what I mean by “milahd” – that’s the name of my ex-boyfriend’s little boy. In Farsi, it means “new beginning”.
So. Here’s what we’re keeping our fingers crossed about this year. That my fall will have more milahds than I could possibly know what to do with. Because my summer has surpassed all expectations, so why should fall be any different?
Obviously this summer was different. I went places with the kids. I hung out with my friends. I went to the pool at my complex for the first time ever, and I’ve lived here for three summers. I’ve loved every minute of my freedom from my job – I can’t tell you enough how thankful I am that that place is no longer and that because of that, I was able to take the time off that I needed to. I got to have summer and I LOVED it!
Fall is one of my favorite seasons. I love the change in the air – the nights are much chillier and even though we ate dinner outside at Sally and Joe’s last night, we had a fire going in the chiminea and sweatshirts on. It was beautiful out, and when I went to bed, I took my hair out of a ponytail, and it smelled like fire smoke. I love that smell. I love the smell of the crisp air, and I love the smell of fires burning in fireplaces. I love the colors of fall and I love the things that fall means. High school football games, carving pumpkins, a fire in my fireplace. I love that even though fall is an end for so many things, it’s always been a beginning for me.
I’ve started my last few jobs in the fall. Five years ago in October, I began my job at my now-defunct company. The fall before that I started working at REI. And now, tomorrow I start yet another new job. It’s exciting. It’s the promise that things will change and even though I fear change, I also love it. New people, a new place, new stuff to learn and do.
I’ve also began a lot of my relationships in the fall. My college boyfriend and I began dating in the fall and a year later, we got engaged in the fall. I started seeing my last serious boyfriend, the one I was with for four and a half years, in the fall. And two years ago, I started seeing Not Boyfriend in the fall.
So I guess it’s not weird that when fall comes around, I feel melancholy. Or “melon calling” as Kendra used to say. I was thinking about how to write about all of this, and I remembered that last year at this time, I was feeling the same way. I went back and read this entry, and the first paragraph kind of sums up how I feel right now. In the arena of melon-calling, that is. The entry ends with me keeping my fingers crossed for things to work out with Not Boyfriend, and a year later, they totally have. He’s living in another state, but we’ve stayed close friends. We talk about once a week, sometimes more, sometimes less. When he comes back to Denver, he makes time to see me. I still love him, it’s just a different love now, and I no longer hold on to the hope that we’ll be together. I still miss him, but how could you not miss a friend who’s far away?
As far as the other side of the coin, well, I got that covered as well. The job is new. The routine is new. The people will be new. The stuff I learn will be new. It’s the beginning of something that might last long, but that might not. It’s what I mean by “milahd” – that’s the name of my ex-boyfriend’s little boy. In Farsi, it means “new beginning”.
So. Here’s what we’re keeping our fingers crossed about this year. That my fall will have more milahds than I could possibly know what to do with. Because my summer has surpassed all expectations, so why should fall be any different?
Friday, September 01, 2006
Guess what?
Well, my lazy days of laying by the pool, taking naps and watching "Magnum, P.I." are officially coming to an end. Why, you might ask?
I GOT A JOB!!
Starting Tuesday, I’ll be working in the marketing department of a large construction company. I will be co-workers with John, Karen’s husband – who, I might add, is the reason I got the job (you're the best, JT!!). Apparently, it IS about who you know, not what you know. Although what I know is also coming in handy.
So. After almost five months of a lovely life of leisure, I can now put to rest my worries about paying the mortgage and go back to the land where people work for a living.
I’m happy about that, because as much as I love being at home and doing whatever I want whenever I want to, I’m getting sort of bored. I mean, I spent this week rearranging the living room and getting rid of stuff because I couldn’t stand all the clutter. I have way too much stuff. And I’m getting a desk, because I would really love to have my dining room table back for purposes of oh, I don’t know, eating, instead of as computer central. Plus, as part of my new job, I can work from home sometimes if I want to, so I should have an official “home office,” don’t you think?
Anyway. I’m excited. Yay! Job!
I GOT A JOB!!
Starting Tuesday, I’ll be working in the marketing department of a large construction company. I will be co-workers with John, Karen’s husband – who, I might add, is the reason I got the job (you're the best, JT!!). Apparently, it IS about who you know, not what you know. Although what I know is also coming in handy.
So. After almost five months of a lovely life of leisure, I can now put to rest my worries about paying the mortgage and go back to the land where people work for a living.
I’m happy about that, because as much as I love being at home and doing whatever I want whenever I want to, I’m getting sort of bored. I mean, I spent this week rearranging the living room and getting rid of stuff because I couldn’t stand all the clutter. I have way too much stuff. And I’m getting a desk, because I would really love to have my dining room table back for purposes of oh, I don’t know, eating, instead of as computer central. Plus, as part of my new job, I can work from home sometimes if I want to, so I should have an official “home office,” don’t you think?
Anyway. I’m excited. Yay! Job!
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