It seems I have once again found myself "employed". Yes, I was looking for work and yes, I am pleased to now have the ability to further the growth of my savings, and yes, I am also tickled to work with the luxury of central heating and air. But really, I'm not tickled to work. I've enjoyed slumping for two months. You know, I've had a job since I was sixteen. Yeah yeah, I know, back in the day kids starting working in elementary school blah blah I got it. But I'm just saying. As a snobby spoiled kid I didn't HAVE to work. I CHOSE to. And I have dutifully done so since!
I am the newest (and only) employee of a little home decor boutique in Mt. Pleasant.
I thought, "Well this seems nice. I love decorative bee-bobs as much as the next gal. I'll do it." And so I showed up for a spontaneous interview and wowed the owner with my Valley Girl impression and prompt call-returning skills. What I did not expect was the layout of the store and it's surroundings.
There is a burger joint to the right, a men's gym to the left, a salon upstairs, and of course a Bait n' Tackle shop on the other side of the gym. What's odd about that you ask? Well, they are all connected on the inside. Like one giant room. Like a Wal-mart. There was the distinct smell of sweet potato fries. Oversized, sweaty men came traipsing through porcelain displays, past the white sofas and turquoise throw pillows. An old lady in yellow appeared behind a heavy green door, her hair in perfect curls. There was a small child learning vocabulary. Someone named Homer shouted goodbyes to my interviewer who had to get up a number of times, once because a kid from the burger joint locked himself outside. It was madness. It was thrilling. I took the job.
In other job taking news, Ellen had her first day of Realty School and was reminded just how much "college sucked". See. She was a bit snippy upon her return and quite unamused at the thought of going back tomorrow, alas once she was fed she felt better.
Grandma has found me a new suitor- one she keeps telling me "will inherit millions." She continuously asks me to show up at his work to "have a look at him" and see what I think. I refuse. A few days ago she left me a stern voicemail insisting I go meet him as a favor to her because that's God's will. Then she reminded me..."millions..." Who knew Granny was a gold-digger?
Mom and Dad continue their usual routines. Dad has had less work to do lately and therefore has been staring at Mom and slapping his children. Mom simply glares at him, in-between bouts of cleaning and deciding which walls we should knock out to let in more sunlight.
And Buddy Boy is back to his old self. We still don't know what happened. Dumb dog.
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