As of Wednesday evening, I might have not one, not two, but a whopping THREE jobs working with small children. I can't tell if this will make me happy or suicidal. Probably a pleasant mixture of both. But finally, after two weeks of fruitless resume submissions, everything's finally starting to come up Richard for me (ironically, it hasn't started to come up Richard for Richard yet...). If all goes as planned, I'll be an intern at the Austin Children's Museum, a church nursery worker on Sunday mornings up in the suburbs, and an assistant teacher at a local preschool (which is also located in a church, with the result that I'm beginning to feel very uncomfortably assimilated... bring me more latkes!). The salaries from all of these combined will earn me a whopping $600 a month, which is $50 less than I'll need to cover rent, utilities, and student loans. And that's assuming Richard pays for all my food and entertainment, which - judging from his present state of non-employment - probably isn't an option I should bank on.
So my new goal is to find some job that only wants me before 2:30pm (when I have to be at the preschool) and preferably doesn't involve children. Not that I have anything against them, but I think enough is probably enough. I also heard back today from the Samaritan Counseling Center (how come I can only find jobs located in churches or endorsed by pastors?) who seemed very interested in interviewing me for a part-time admin assistant position I'd applied for... but unfortunately, the hours would conflict with the preschool job AND any Saturday singings I wanted to go to, so I think I'm going to have to regretfully decline. At any rate, not staring at a computer for 30 hours a week is definitely worth the $2-$4 extra per hour I would be earning if I got that job. Though feel free to confirm that statement with me when all my bills arrive next week.
I think that's all the exciting stuff. We've been enjoying our $30 matching sofa and loveseat which we amazingly found at a tag sale a few houses away... any further and we'd have no way of transporting it to our place, but this way we just carried it up the block. Thus far they appear to be flea- and scabies-free, though I'm not making any promises. John our excellent landlord, who somehow lives off the fat of the land enough to stay home all day and listen to the Grateful Dead and tend to our house-related needs whenever we like, came over today to fix our garbage disposal and take a look at our clearly-made-for-an-entirely-different-doorway closet doors to see how he could make them work. He also promised to come by with the exterminator tomorrow morning in order to do away with the ant colony in the baseboard of the bedroom that we'd like to use as ours. But those rascally ants have scared us into the other bedroom so far. Apparently, John had sprayed them from the outside of the house when he came across the colony last week, which turned them into staggering, half-dead zombies that don't actually move even when you poke them with your finger, but continue to appear from the gap in the baseboard at a rate of at least five an hour if you leave them alone. We fenced off the danger zone with strips of sticky-side-up duct tape which, if nothing else, makes us feel better. As far as we can tell, it doesn't atually stop them in their tracks (as evidenced by the fact that sometimes they're stuck to it and sometimes they aren't), but makes it just hard enough to walk that the poor soulless critters lose the will to go on and just hang out on it. That's good enough for us.
Am I still talking about ants? Perhaps I'd better shut up now. Richard is at his class on designing and installing solar power systems, busily gaining hugely marketable skills and talents, so I'm forced to mock his unemployment while I can, before some burgeoning solar company snaps him up and I'm still earning $7.50 an hour playing blocks with children. Hmph.