It's Summer Time

I was offered a job of sorts this afternoon. I took it without hesitation, and then I cried until my eyes swelled and I couldn't breathe.

I took a pay cut that amounts to someone's salary, I am taking a job that I could sleep through and I am doing it only out of neccessity for the very small pay check, no benefits and no 401K naturally. And I cried and I cried. I took it because I can't wait any longer, I took it because I need to pay the bills that are mounting, I took it because there was no other choice. And I cried and I cried and I felt like a total shit for crying, but, but what. You gonna go crying about how you are too smart and too experienced, why, yes, yes, I was. I think I might cry some more. I am not the most self centered bitch, I just thought I was worth a little bit more. But I will take what I can get, and when I show up on time on Monday, I'll come with some razzle dazzle and hope that my moxie will earn me a raise and benefits in three months time.

I found out about the job late this afternoon. After a week of shuttlcocking about my house and riccocheting off the walls because it's been maybe 50 degrees out and the wind has been lashing all those febrile leaves about and thrashing all of my flowers, and that's all I got now, is the flowers in my garden. I'd gone out with my brother as he shopped for a birthday present for his new wife, we went to Tiffany's, my brother is a good listener, and he done good. I was looking at all the sparklies and sent a half-assed wished somewhere heavenward, maybe someday someone might be so thoughtful, heaven forbid someone might love me that much.

Of course conventional wisdom dictates that I radically fucked on that front. Do not even get me started on how much I hated Sex in the City WITH A WHITE HOT BURNING SWORD OF DERISION. I may try to articulate it better at some point, but a week later and I am still pissed.

And maybe I am pissed because there is some wee element of truth in that. I am a thirty seven year old marginally employed woman, I am single. Does that make me invalid, does that make me untouchable? According to the material laws of that ridiculous movie it does... And if you had seen all those gaggles of chicks hooting between fistfulls of popcorn, you might have thunk so.

I am a thirty-seven year old marginally employed woman, I am single. It's hard, but I'm no crone, not yet. I struggle with romanticism, but I am not ready to throw in the towel yet.

There are things and people out there... Who are like minded.... There are days to conquer and days to surrender to, if nothing else I have a lovely front porch to sit on and watch the world pass me by.