Jobs of all sorts

Well, the kids are home for the summer and I don’t know how I’m going to have time to wash their underwear let alone parent them. Those dollar store panties are looking pretty disposable right about now.

I haven’t had a moment or an inkling to write a darn word for over a month now. This is mostly due to the insanity that has become my life. I’ve started working for Inside Henderson in their marketing department selling advertising, while simultaneously planning my niece’s wedding. I’m either working on one or worrying on the other. And don’t even get me started on my food storage anxiety, I have become the spreadsheet queen of the universe. Everything has a spreadsheet except my bed because I never have time to make it anymore. All rumpled all the time.

Here’s what I’ve learned about sales so far.

1. Don’t ever approach someone who doesn’t know you with a sales proposition.

2. Don’t ever suggest they buy what you have to sell.

3. Try not to talk, period.

And don’t even get me started on the wasted hours of emailing potential customers. Ha, potential nothing. People hate emails. Maybe I’m just missing the boat in my subject box. Maybe I need catchier titles, like, “Roses are red, money is green, advertise with us and you will be seriously swarmed with new customers.”

And as for my food storage, it’s like this obnoxious itch that makes me crazy all day long. If I could just finish this project (we’ve been working on our long-term food storage since ’08) and wash my hands of all these blasted wheat kernels maybe I could sleep at night instead of worrying about how many #10 cans I can store under Georgia’s bed. The heat here has made our garage a no-go option so everything needs an inside home.

Would it be tacky to use #10 cans as step stools in the bathrooms? What about building book shelves with the boxes? End tables? I know, we could put them under our dining room table and make it counter height.  Classy.

I don’t care how I do it, by the end of June I will have my 900 lbs of recommended wheat stuffed into the cracks and crevices of this house, not to mention the lengthy list of edible counterparts we still need to purchase. So close I can taste it. I have to admit, it’s not as tasty as a Double Double from In-n-Out but it will do in a pinch.

Surgically speaking I’m doing swell–the swell part has nothing to do with swelling which is mostly gone and what’s left is frequently ignored. It’s swimsuit season and it makes me…uncomfortable. I don’t know, part of me feels like such a fake when I put on a swimsuit and it doesn’t look as terrible as it should. Like I didn’t do nearly enough crunches to get this nice flat stomach so it’s false advertising. Part of me feels like it’s only honest for me to wear a sign to the water park that says, “Need boobs? Call Dr. Peterson, he did mine.” I have a friend who did a similar mommy makeover tell me that it took her six to eight months to finally adjust to how she looked.

First world problems, I know.