Staying home isn't what it's cracked up to be

"Wish I could stay home and do nothing!" No, you don't. No, No,...nuh-uh, you don't. It's not as fun as one would think. It's stressful to think that your household isn't making what it used to, and I was a major contributor here. The continual disappointments of potential employers not bothering to get back to you when they said they would about job opportunities that you really thought you'd be great at. The major highlights of your day being the mail arriving and your husband coming home from work. IT'S NOT FUN.

I had a great job, that I just loved and was good at until January of this year. Great pay, great bennys, sweet car...and the work wouldn't kill anyone. The hours were long and the driving got to be less than great, but all round, one of the best jobs I've had. (That includes the job at the diner when I was a teenager where I could drink all the Mountain Dew I wanted all day, and the car parking job when I got paid twice minimum wage to hold a cardboard arrow to show people the direction to drive.) So I was actually in mourning of that loss for awhile. Being laid off has happened to me twice in the past two years (more to come on that) so I adjusted faster this time. I would still rather work the long hours, drive to another state, get stuck in road construction, soothe angry customers, and do that job than sit here, getting bigger, and talk to the dog. I like to work. I know, that must make me a weirdo, but I do.

Our boy, Gonzo, however, likes it a great deal that someone's around more. And it's not just so someone with an opposable thumb is around to work that pesky doorknob, either. He is a pack dog, with that pack dog mentality and he wants his pack here where he can see them. There's my husband, the Alpha dog, and me the Zeta dog. Actually, he's not quite sure where I fit in the pack, because I will let him eat without me eating first, and I encourage him to sleep in our bed. Apparently, that sends mixed signals to a pack-minded dog. (My sister knows about these things.) If I'm upstairs on my husband's computer, he's content to be in the living room on the sofa or the dining room right behind my chair. But if I'm downstairs on my computer, he sleeps at the top of the stairs or underneath my desk. Especially if I'm eating. Which I do too much of, if truth be told.
I have to admit, though, it's nice to have company while I'm in limbo. Good boy, Gonzo.

Come back if you're interested. More to come.