That Was Easy.
So. Only working three hours a day leaves a lot of time. I could be gardening and sewing and whatnot. I’m sleeping. Then I’m endlessly on the Internet.
I keep riding past cars thinking, “It’s gotta be almost time for Buena Vista to come in. Oh, wait. I don’t do that anymore.” “Hey, Kits Beach got a new scrape. But! Not my problem.” It’s weird. Responsibility is my default state.
I also keep browsing Craigslist and I’ll be happy to get whatever job I get, but, really? Those jobs look boring. I’m custom-building jobs in my head: Training octopi. Designing summer reading assignments for teenagers. Teaching underprivileged people how to bake artisan breads. I could do anything.
It’s made me wonder about what, exactly, my dream job would be.
By rachel, March 18, 2011 @ 11:57 am
Someone who plays with puppies! Professionally!
By Liz, March 18, 2011 @ 2:47 pm
See? I could do that.
By clara, March 21, 2011 @ 2:35 pm
Except for the octopi, I think you could blend those jobs. Be a teenager coach; teach ‘em what to read, how to cook, how not to be idiots. Because they’re not listening to their parents. I bet parents would happily pay someone else to teach those life skills to their kids.
You could call yourself a Personal Enrichment Tutor. Two teens a week, one day off. Get them to take you to shows and parties, too so you can model how to get trashed most elegantly.
By Liz, March 21, 2011 @ 6:01 pm
You know, if I had the chutzpah, that might fly in a leisure-class hood like this one.