Being un-gainfully employed is shockingly and almost unbearably taxing. At present, I have two part-time jobs. One’s schedule changes week-to-week, the other is always offering random impropmtu hours that I have to take up on a moment’s notice. Both pay next to nothing, and one is slightly unpredictable with doling out the paychecks. I am also in the midst of the hiring process for two other jobs (both in addition to, not superseding, my existing jobs.) One is for the spring, and one for the summer. Both keep sending me paperwork they need and necessitating meetings and prep work. Predictably, according to Murphy’s Law, the one for the summer is the far more organized and on-top-of-things job, whereas the one that starts in two weeks is something of a ramshackle operation: at present the hours are not set, whether the job will happen or not is indeterminate, and the “curriculum” is non-existent. Oh, and on top of that all, there is a fifth job in the mix that I have submitted an application to and am waiting to schedule an interview for, hopefully in a few weeks (if it happens); this one is what you might term a dream job. As I told the old ladies at work during a confab on the Mega Millions, “I don’t allow myself to dream.”
So those are ALL the balls I have in the air, and it basically adds up to a constant state of inbetweenness and on-edgeness. I feel as though I’m coming up short on all fronts, but those who can’t afford the ten-cents-more-expensive deodorant can’t be choosy. If I made more money, or had health insurance, I would most definitely be on an anti-anxiety medication. The irony, of course, is that then I wouldn’t need one.