There I was, just waking up from a rather long Sunday afternoon nap and thinking to myself, “Ugh. I feel awful,” when it occurred to me that I ought to feel fabulous and relaxed and grateful for the opportunity to take a long Sunday afternoon nap.

Today will be the first day I’ve been totally obligation free in a long time. My house is clean. My husband spends ten hours a day at the school studying. My cats have been bathed and re-acclimated to human presence in the house. All vestiges of responsibility with my former sales job has passed. I live in a town where nothing happens if you’re over 23 and where my friend prospects all have full-time jobs. I have no inclination to become an obsessive exerciser nor any ambitions to become “homemaker of the year.”

As such, my long Sunday afternoon nap was more of an escape from sheer boredom than a luxurious indulgence during a coveted and special day off. And this, friends, was my first real day off. Even while performing my duties for my former job, I was never very good at distinguishing between work-time and home-time as I was working from my home. Being home all day without any structure at all is sure to be a struggle for me.

So while I was lying in bed, questioning my lack of appreciation for my nap, I came to the realization that I really do need some occupation for my time. Naturally, my thoughts turned to babies. Not only is this a natural place for my thoughts to turn in general, but I also happened to watch two Lifetime movies about teenage mothers this weekend. Besides the fact that I would now be dead had I gotten pregnant in high school (what’s the opposite of matricide? maybe infanticide, only when the infant is actually a pregnant teenager and her mom is so pissed she kills her?), I was really quite jealous of these teenage mothers. They don’t have to worry about the new study that says you only have 12 eggs left by the time you’re thirty. Sure, they have far more to worry about than that, but at least they have a baby.

Anyway, being that I am not a teenager and am therefore incapable of making ill-thought-out decisions regarding procreation, my second thought was that I needed a job. Well, that’s obvious. Money generally only comes to those who work (or else already have a ton of money to begin with), and I am sadly in need of money.

The problem with this solution is, of course, that it takes time to find a job, especially in a tiny college town where all the decent jobs are taken by stupid students…Oh sorry, that was a bit of a rant, but I’m getting bitter about the job market here.

SO, in the meantime, I suppose I’ll be doing more writing. When I was last unemployed, I managed to write a novel. Wonder if I can do it again? It’s either that or begin thinking more like a teenager 🙂