So, the CPA who was all gung-ho to hire me has not emailed me in almost a week. We have not finalized the contract, she has not let me know what she wants me to start on, there is a total communication breakdown. This makes two jobs in two weeks that have totally fallen through post-hiring, leading me to think that HA HA HA, maybe it’s me. As in, maybe I am doing something horrendously wrong, or perhaps my personality is off-putting, or… or I smell. I don’t know, but I am starting to get seriously worried, not that it’s edging into paranoia or anything because it’s TOTALLY NOT. Except at three in the morning when I am lying awake and freaking out about money. Then it’s paranoia! Yes indeed!
Hi. How are you?
Today is another day of resumé sending, just in case, and tomorrow will be another day of local job hunting. Just in case. We just did our grocery shopping for
the month the next couple of weeks, and I am having my usual attendant “oh my goodness, everything has gotten SO EXPENSIVE” spazz attack. We have company coming in next week and OH MY GOD, HOW WILL I FEED THEM? I mean, it should be okay, except I don’t want to make my usual busy-mom-on-a-budget stuff. I, of course, am DEAD-SET on preparing fantastic meals with rich meldings of savory flavor and, um, angel wings or whatever. I should probably not panic about this because it’s not like we won’t be able to buy more stuff when the company gets here, but then I think OH MY GOD, HOW WILL I FEED THEM? Which is not — I repeat not — a legitimate worry in any way (I mean, we are not destitute), but damnit, I remember when the food I bought today would have only been maybe a hundred bucks and today it was TWO HUNDRED.
Hi. How are you?
I am also
irrationally panicked about gas prices because HOLY HELL. Gas is over four dollars a gallon here, and our ancient Chevy Tracker is currently getting something like eleven miles to the gallon. Did I mention that I have company coming in next week? Because I do and OH MY GOD, HOW WILL I TAKE THEM OUT? Also, Michael has to get to work, Connor has to get to playdates and the park and the pool, and I have to… well, look for a job. Again. FOUR DOLLARS PER GALLON, people. I know it’s probably worse in other places, but I keep thinking about when gas was 88 CENTS per gallon, and I just want to cry a little. There was some ad on the radio today for a contest in which first prize was a $100 gas card, and I could not keep myself from snarking on it a little. “Oooh, enter to win A TANK OF GAS. No, wait, maybe A TANK AND A HALF OF GAS. What a MARVELOUS prize! So EXOTIC. So USEFUL. We should go enter, because A TANK OF GAS is worth its weight in gold!” And then, of course, I realized that a tank of gas probably is worth its weight in gold.
Hi. How are you?
Anyway, the lunchmeat I bought today offers me the chance to win $50,000! Now that’s a prize I can get behind! Desperate times, right? In case you’re wondering, I would buy a house. If it was a cheap house, I would also tune up the damn car. (ELEVEN MILES TO THE GALLON.) What would you do?
(As an addendum, you should go check out 3trillion.org. I have already solved the oil crisis, the housing crisis, the education crisis, and the food crisis! Happy spending.)