Here’s hoping that this week is the one where a job shows up. Being unemployed is making it very hard to enjoy being here.
I swore when I moved here that I was going to take advantage of what this place had to offer. I was not going to be the hermit I had become in the big city. I was going to reinvent myself into a dinner party hostess extraordinaire, a brilliant book club member, a virulent (the distances I will go for alliteration) volunteer. Basically become the heroine of my own novel.
Now having known me for a really long time, I am aware that a lot of this is middle of the night, I can’t sleep, let’s reinvent my life, imaginative overload. Even knowing that, and knowing my trend towards the improbable if not the impossible, I yet again really believed that this time I was going to make it happen.
At some point I think I really need to get more in touch with who I really am. Because I don’t know if the person I like to invent for myself is someone I would even like being. Let’s face it, extraordinary hostesses have a ton of cleaning and cleaning up to do to keep up the reputation (I hate cleaning), brilliant book clubbers actually have to read books that are not all about escapism (there goes my love of Sci-Fi) and volunteers need to be somewhat selfless with their time (me not so much – I hoard my private time like Imelda hoarded shoes).
Maybe it’s time I rethunk this.