Friday, seventh week in East Garfield Park
"What's the expression? 'When God opens a door... he brings a truckload of donuts... through that door.'" -Claire, 2011-07-04
So, feeling depressed and hungover, I return to my cave of introspection for some cathartic word-typin's. Why am I depressed and hungover? I'm hungover because I was depressed and forgot to eat yesterday after breakfast, and then drank a beer. Why am I depressed? Well, I should have gotten a job by now, and didn't, sooo... scratch that, that doesn't bother me that much. I don't have a job yet, so I have to look for one, and the very thought depresses me. Plus, we all got colds we're just recovering from. I'll say it again: We all got colds. We're still not all unpacked yet, and Claire is still in her post-move funk, which will last another four to seven months. There's a lot of distractions and a lot of stress and not a lot of resources in the arenas of time, focus, and solitude.
That's not what I came here today to talk about, but I guess that's what I needed to type about.
And while I'm being as productive as I may be capable of right now, let's go ahead and calculate a life plan. Well, more like a week or month plan. Things I need to do:
- Get a job, any job.
- Get Claire a job she would enjoy.
- Plan meals and cook them, to prove that I can and will run the household while Claire is at work, so she will feel comfortable taking a job.
- Play more poppy, peppy music.
- Put tires, and seat on Claire's bike, Lolita.
- Move our ridiculously huge new fridge to the boot room.
- Get a worthwhile job with good pay that I would enjoy.
You know, I could do laundry right now, and it would make me feel better. If I'm feeling saucy, maybe I can get Mike to wash the dishes, which I'd like to have done. Here, let's add it:
Alright, feeling better, here we go. Manipulation and a basketful of cloth diapers will lead me to salvation.
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