I’m dreaming up things to clean. Chores to do. My parents would be so proud.
Except I’m sort of sure they’re not. Not completely, anyway.
I’m a temporary, glorified stay at home mom. Go ahead, roll your eyes. Because my kids? They’re both at school.
And I am so B-O-R-E-D. Ugh. I know I seriously should not be complaining. I’m incessantly putting my extra large, size nine feet in other people’s shoes. Worrying if I’ll alienate them. Piss them off. Make myself look ridiculous, or even worse, stupid.
But this is me, flinging my nose at myself. Because I’ve gotten what I’ve always (thought) I wanted. And once again, I’m like…ummm? Do-over please?
I miss my old life.
I miss my job. I miss my boss. I miss my coworkers and my family and my friends and having somewhere to go. Somewhere I am needed. I miss earning a paycheck. I miss it all.
I have applied to no less than thirty jobs since I found out about our move from California. I got one interview in the way too early haven’t even bought moving boxes beginning that I bombed. I cringe when I think back on it. My father in law flew me out to Arizona for it. I bought the requisite pencil skirt and button down. I got on a plane. And that is the end of my highlight reel. Because I was ridiculously unprepared.
I forgot my resume at home. I had no idea I would be doing a roundtable, with six women firing off prepared hypothetical questions at me. I started sweating. Then I became really loud and actually began giggling. At one point, I believe the words, “So, is this a nine to five gig?” came out of my mouth. My scheduled thirty minute interview lasted a mere fifteen.
I’m not kidding. Worst interview of my life. And since then, I’ve been in a dry spell.
Which finds me playing the Foo Fighters obnoxiously loud in my living room, with a bottle of pledge in hand. Because I can. I walked outside. It’s pretty damn loud. But it’s Arizona in August and I have not met one single neighbor the nicey nice way. So I thought maybe this would bring them out.
It’s not working.