I recently rediscovered The Last Scene. Watch 1-3, the fourth and fifth ones seem to be lacking.
I feel a strong connection to Daniels, or maybe even Shelly, in that "lost-in-despair-and-dead-end-job-or-perhaps-just-straight-up-killed-by-gargoyles" kind-of way. I'm sure everyone is familiar. So, to distract myself of this "I-have-a-degree-and-I'm-not-using-it" feeling, I'm going to quit my job, move away from my best friends and family, move in with my sister and her friends (mmmhmm, that's what I thought too), and pound the pavement looking for something else to do and hopefully some new friends. Aaron's coming too.
So...
In other news, I've (we've) decided to move. We're moving out of my precious Iowa City and heading out West. Cowboy dreams come true! Unfortunately, there isn't 4G in Kansas City (MO or KS), so my brand new, totally awesome Droid Charge is pretty useless, especially when Verizon doesn't seem to exist in America's Bread Basket, and I'm 1x-ing almost everywhere. Also, despite the fact that I have applied to almost twenty different places, I still don't have a job lined up, and hubby doesn't want to transfer to a store down here because his entire paycheck would probably go toward the gas it would take to drive there and back everyday, unlike his ten-minute commute in Iowa City. On the bright side, my sister is thrilled and her roommate is excited to play with the cats.
The countdown is t-28 days for me. t-December 16th for the boy. I'm eager to get out of retail before I have to work another Day After Thanksgiving or another Christmas and New Years. I'm crossing my fingers for something, I think you should too. My sister is telling me, instead, about a birthday party for her friend. We're having a bake-off or a bake-sale or a clam-bake or something. She said he likes cookies, cake, authentic Chinese food, cheeseburgers, lasagna, pizza cupcakes, bean burritos, lobster bisque, jell-o, green eggs and ham, here or there (or anywhere, really), meat, etc etc. I told her I know how to make fruit pizza. Other than the job thing, my biggest concern is probably where I'm going to put my bed. The upstairs of the house, recently dubbed "Married Couple Zone," is a small office-like room, a skinny hallway with the smallest closet of a bathroom you've ever seen, and then a longer, slightly wider, hallway of a play room for small children under three feet tall with one, sad window at the far end that beckons for you to stare out and yearn for yearning's sake with no actual closets in sight aside from an almost inaccessible crawlspace to store dead bodies and Christmas ornaments. It's the ceiling that really gets me, though. The ceiling and walls are shaped like half a stop-sign: flat on the top, then two angles, then the walls going up and down, then straight across for the floor. My 6-foot-tall husband almost hits his head in the tall part, and the slanted parts of the ceiling block off the rest of the room unless you're, like I said, under three feet tall. If we put the bed in the office, it's over my sister's room. If it's just inside the long room, it's over her roommate's bed, if it's on the far end by the window, it's over the porch. Married Zone overhead of everyone. Dilemma.
In the end, the goal is to make it to Colorado. Maybe we should just suck it up and move to Denver rather than stopping half way. Difficult to say.
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