Friday, January 16, 2015

Working Girl

40 hoursaweekohmygawd.  Considering that my last job was only 20 hours a week and most of that was just writing words while resting in bed (not to mention I had someone coming in to help with the house and and laundry because Brazil), and before that I didn't leave the house for a good 10 years or so, this new gig is killing me dead. As in, bed by 8:00. I begin fantasizing about going to bed around 3:00 pm, because that's how an old lady gets through the day like a boss.

I don't even want to talk about the state of my house. We clean all four levels (rickety stairs included) by ourselves now because Europe. How messy is my house? Just imagine that a boot factory exploded next door to a laundromat. The kids and Mitch try, but Mitch's idea of doing laundry is "folding" things loosely and tossing them on top of all my boots. Olivia's stuffed animals are in desperate need of birth control and I'm not sure how Henry's room looks. It's all the way up on the fourth floor, yo.

The job itself is okay. The office isn't social and sunny like my old job, and no one ever talks about their vaginas, but everyone seems nice. Now, I'm not gonna lie. The Whirled Peas Factory (TWPF) is not the most creative place to work. It's also terrifying. I'm scared to even throw away my used tissues, lest I get arrested for distributing classified boogers. Just getting into my office is an ordeal that requires something along the lines of a piece of DNA from all my family members and a cavity search. Not really, but they DO make me lock up my cell phone outside and forget about having my iPad with me. 

Mitch saw me happily crushing candies on my iPad before I started working and was all, "you know you can't bring that into the TWPF building."

"Yes I can."

"No you can't."





"But what am I going to read? I don't even know how to turn paper pages anymore."

"Read? Just what exactly do you think you will be doing in Human Resources?"

"Reading under my fuzzy blanket and occasionally having people sign stuff?"

Oh! You know what TWPF does have? Adorable little wine bottles in the lunch room. Right next to the soda machine because Europe! I would take a picture to show you their cuteness, but I'd probably get fired. Heyyy....

I'm telling you guys, don't get jobs. There's no reading novels under fuzzy blankets or binge watching House of Cards on Netflix. IT'S JUST SO STUPID. Dumb paying for college and saving for retirement and dumb stupidness with a side of poop and somebody has to pay for all these boots. Why won't the universe just pay me for being adorably lazy? Gawd.

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