Since my boss told me to come at 12, not 10, I took advantage of the time and rewrote my opening pilot scenes at the Corner Bakery. It's amazing what can get done in one hour without the kids. Of course, a mom's group came and sat next to me, forcing me to move over a table, but no big deal. They apologized for the noise and I was like "Noise? What noise. Not my kids, so go ahead and wipe their ass on the table... I'm tuning you out."
I stopped at a pay phone at 11:45 to check my messages (no cell phone these days in an attempt to save money. I also figure when I'm in the car, I can actually talk to my kids rather than about them, strange as that concept is.) Anyway, no message from the boss. So I headed over. She opens the door and lo and behold... the computer is not fixed, so no work for me.
That's fine. I went thrift shopping and bougth Stella a quilt for her birthday. Fifty dollars in the hole and no money from working, I arrived home at 2.
Am I dissapointed? Yes. Terribly so? No. Surprised? No. Like I said a few posts earlier, you don't get handed a job that pays you under the table with flexible hours, working out of someone's garage, without a price. I mean, it's a legit paper with 70,000 copies printed bi-monthly, but it's a mom and pop shop. Part of me wants to say forget it and not go back. Part of me feels like "what the hell... I'll do it a few times and make some Christmas money. Plus if this woman can make a living being this disorganized, can you imagine how I could run a paper from my house with what I learn from her?" But it's discouraging.
Which leads me to drinking too much coffee.
Which gets me hyper.
Which gets my mind a whirling, leading me to this thought:
Every area of my life, from my relationships to finances, have improved when I've set boundaries. I refuse to live anything less than a full, non bullsxxx life. In my heart, I know this gig is pure crap. But there's this side of me that so desperately wants something of her own outside the family. And I can't give of myself 40 hours a week to an agency. Or art house. Or Starbucks (hee hee). So I will hang on a bit longer.
And this thought leads me to the next thought:
When I look at the big picture, I can't help but notice that I'm not shopping at Nordstroms. I'm thrifting. I'm not hiring babysitters regularly. I'm trading time. I'm not getting haircuts for myself. I'm spending money on the kids. How much of this is me being practical, and how much of it is me not setting the bar high enough?
Which leads me to my final thought of the blog:
I will stick to my plan of staying debt free, meanwhile filling up my soul with the things I love. I am determined not to finance my persona. As much as I hate to quote Dr. Phil, I like his attitude about "getting real" - stop whining about being a victim (because I'm really the luckiest person alive) and make the best of everything I have (which is a ton) At some point, the big job will come. The great pay, real deal where you actually bust your ass but bosses show up and you have a working computer and your job's address is in a business park, not a cul de sac. Then I'll get the monthly hair highlite, my Pottery Barn office. My daily lunches out at establishments that don't boast plastic toddler Habit Trails (these structures made by their recycled nuggets). By 40, I will be in the best mental/physical shape of my life and have that "it girl" house, job and social life.
Then I'm making James get a reversal so I can have another baby.
Again I will say it: Women are Crazy.