A Whole Bunch of Nothing

Nothing, nothing, nothing. My temp agency isn't getting me a job. This is going to make life fairly ugly a week from today, since I worked exactly one day this week. And somehow I don't think that the new guy assigned to me knows what the hell he's doing. I keep calling him to say I'm available, and he keeps asking me what I consider strange questions, such as, "Well, where have you worked? Who should I call?" Ah, isn't it the AGENCY'S job to find the work? Then I called and left him a message about my experience - which I also should not have had to do, since this is a large temp agency. All of this is on file, for God's sake. Why does he need to ask ME about it? I have a horrible suspicion that he doesn't know how to run a computer...yeeks. Just what I don't need.

Meanwhile I have been doing nothing of any interest whatsoever - unless you're deeply fascinated by the fact that I cleaned up the passive-aggressive garbage in the upstairs bathroom. This is passive-aggressive garbage because I feel that in a house which currently contains four adult human beings, some damn fool ought to be capable of noticing that the bathroom wastebasket is spilling over and DO something about it. This never happens. I am the only one in the house, evidently, to feel that when a wastebasket is spilling stuff all over the place, it should be emptied. Unfortunately what always happens is that I can't take it another single second and do it myself. (One of my extremely few housekeeping moments.)

And Mel and Rebecca painted all the kitchen cabinets! Wow! My kitchen is blinding...it's so beautiful. I may even get in the mood to cook something, which I haven't done lately because I haven't felt like it.

So without a job, wouldn't you think that I'd be an eager little beaver and clean my room, and do all the ironing, and wash all those towels lying around in Sarah's room? Wrong. I am one of those people who has great difficulty getting anything done unless I have too much to do. What happens is I get in drifting mode...you know, I say, well, I've got all this time, and I've got this nice book I'm reading, and since I have nothing that needs to be done right this minute, I might as well curl up with this book...and we all know the end of that story. (It involves snoring.)

However, today, because it's abso-fuckin'-lutely gorgeous out, I am going to trot my aging body over to Soho - lower Broadway, to be specific - and window shop (well, it's not as if I could actually BUY anything), if for no other reason than that it's a great excuse to get out of the house and maybe that will give me enough energy to do something useful when I get home. And there's even something or other on TV tonight (I've forgotten what it is) that made me think, well, that will be fun to watch while I do the damn ironing.

Let's all cross our fingers that I will A. get a call from the damn agency, and B. at least have all my office clothes ironed and neatly hung up so I'll be ready to go when (that's when, damn it, not IF) they do call. If you build it, they will come, right? Riiiight.

Love, Wendy