A few posts back I wrote that I was about to throw myslef in the full time frenzy of finding full time time job. You know, it's the 20 CVs per day frenzy and registering with X number of online recruitment agencies, those who spend a lot of time claiming they have the dream job for me, but after the first phone call give up delivering the dream to me. In other words, they never get back to me. Surely, I am not that stupid, or that rude, or that forgettable. Am I..am I...am I..??????Anyway, digressions aside, I started with the subject of job hunting, just to announce that there was a slack in the activity. Worry not, pick it up, I will soon. It's just some other daily life activities interfered and stole the time.And energy for that matter. And my enthusiasm dropped too. But today, I got fired up again about the whole business to get a job. I met my rich friend. A mum of a lovely, though outsized toddler. Her chief concern of the day every day is to make her life just soooo perfect for herself and her tod; she does it by hunting down for her little offspring the perfect pair of socks perfectly matching his new booties, getting dead set on finding a pair of sandals with a buckle made from pure silver, and swooping in Boots on the last pack of wipes saturated with just the perfect blend of botty soothing herbs.Then, when she accomplishes those deeds, she takes a brief break in front of the telly only to ponder how imperfect her deeds (i.e.purchases) actually were and starts heading back to the shops to have the imperfect goods replaced, refunded or repaired.
OK, so how does that tie in with my earlier statement about me getting fired up to find a job..? Well, I guess I would love to have the money to buy the silver buckle sandals, the lavender scented socks, the gold coated wipes and other fab what nots. But then, I missed one link in my chain of thought. It's not her job that pays for her extravagances, it's her husband. So where does that leave me? Well, I think I will just have to curb my desire to buy, buy, buy and serve it to my cynic mind on a plate of sour grapes. After all, those silly spenders of their rich husbands' money have lives so little, they can easily be filled with a dozen reciepts from Debenhams, John Lewis or Laura Ashley. My life takes far more. Even if it is 2356 signs worth of blog post.