Underemployment

This month I have only 2 days of work. One was the 5^th and one will be next week, the 26^th. Thus I have had an extended period of time at home. With the exception of the 4 –day trip to Sin City with Ma, I'll be home for 26 of the 30 days of September. In the 6 years I've been doing this crazy job, I haven't had a month like this, ever. A fluke of scheduling? The end of the wave I've been riding? A blessing in disguise? Maybe all of these. July and August provided me with seven consecutive weeks of work, work that took me away from home a minimum of four days a week. So I've earned a little down time, but the problem with down time is that it's unpaid!

Remarkably my days have remained quite full. I'm whizzing around my kitchen, creating everything from soups to muffins, Jewish-ethnic to stick-to-your-bones beef stew. During the first of my now-daily visits to the Y, they actually welcomed me back, after my extended absence during the work frenzy of July and August. I've hand-washed the 'Stang twice, including an Armor-all and Rain-X detailing. My yearly well-woman exam, blood work and mammary-squish are done. I organized the pantry, alphabetized the spice rack and backed up the important files on the notebook. I'm up-to-date on all my RSS feeds. 40 of the 50 puzzles in my Sudoku in the Sun book are completed, and I've read Runner's World twice. The cat litter is fresh, the birdfeeder is seeded and tonight's dinner and all the laundry are always completed by 9 AM. Looking at the list, it seems incredibly productive, my list of labor without compensation.

If I have much more time at home, it may be necessary to find work outside my home, for mental and financial stimulation. Maybe my local 'Bucks is looking for a barista. I'd need no training, and I'm already a big corporate investor. Heck, EG, IG and I ventured 3,000 miles on our pilgrimage to Mecca this summer. We took more pictures in front of Starbucks store #1 than in front of Mt. St. Helens (ok, the torrential rain had something to do with that too). Barista-ing could be fun, but the pay is probably bupkis, and I wouldn't want to de-mystify the allure of Starbucks. I could tutor, or teach voice, or maybe complete the paperwork to become an official sub in the district. None of those sound appealing either.

I guess I shouldn't fret it too much, though. I'll only be home 12 of the 31 days in October, and I just received an email for a job in August of 2008.

I Wanna' Be Like Gretel

Gretel in Her New Catbed

Writing makes my ankles hurt. Running makes my neck hurt. EJG has a mysterious arm injury that only hurts him when he's resting. I'm tired when I'm awake and when I should be sleeping I lay with eyes as big as hubcaps, recounting the "to do" that should have been done. Yet, the clock rings in the morning and we punch in. We show up.

This is what it is to be a responsible, grown-up human being. And I guess it's important to be a good human being, because I've already selected the next position for my reincarnation. I wanna' be like Gretel.