Or Day 9. Or 6. I don’t really even know what day of the week it is. Monday? Thursday? Some weird in-between day only jobless people know about, called Schlermday? Sure. Maybe every day will just be Schlermday for now.
(I just Googled “schlerm” to make sure it doesn’t mean something completely inappropriate. According to Urban Dictionary, it means “a permed mullet.” So clearly I’m sticking with it.)
We moved back to Missoula about a week ago so Zach could start his new job. I, on the other hand, am gainfully unemployed at the moment. I’ve had some good leads and done a few interviews, but I’m still waiting for news on those.
This is the first time since I graduated college seven-plus years ago that I just haven’t had a job, so I’m feeling a bit anxious with all this free time, which somehow pays worse than journalism.
But, I’m also finding a lot of time to work in my daily cheese consumption. And I get to wear comfy (and sexy!) high-waisted maternity leggings all day. And I am super on top of all my Facebook notifications. So it’s not all bad. I’m sure something will work out soon …
Squirrel Thoughts 