Maybe I should be a chauffeur. Or possibly not.

Yesterday was M's ballet class at the pub. This is, frankly, a very good set-up for both of us. It's within walking distance, she gets to wear pink, and I can choose from a selection of delicious beverages. (Although usually I get hot tea. I know. BORING. Seriously, why are you even here listening to me? You could be somewhere else, watching paint dry!) The place gets packed with moms and siblings and strollers, and any remaining real customers finish their pints in record time because it's pretty much like trying to have a relaxing drink at a daycare.  

More often than not, I chat with a friend about my job search. She asks me how it's going, and I tell her about the latest interview and why that job isn't QUITE right. This has been going on for awhile now. Since last April to be exact, so you could forgive someone for thinking that it's almost as though I don't want a job. But I do! Something challenging and at a more senior level than my last role. Except part-time. But well-paid! But flexible with hours. But varied and interesting! Also, working from home occasionally would be great. But I'm really competent and can be there on Wednesdays from 10-2! Hire me!

It doesn't help that I don't know exactly what I want to do. Ad sales (my background. Meh.)? Graphic design? Cooking? Marketing? Personal training? PR? I even went to see a career counselor to do one of those aptitude test thingys. It was...not helpful. Mostly it showed that I have a variety of interests (well, that narrows it down) and that I should steer clear of anything involving spatial awareness (so, not architect.) Anyway, Husband had already helpfully pointed the spacial thing out using our car as Exhibit A. To which I say, whatever. IT'S VERY HARD TO SEE HOW FAR THE TOLLBOOTH IS WHEN YOU ARE DRIVING AN ENGLISH CAR IN FRANCE. Also, parking lots in England are REALLY SMALL. You try getting around that pillar.   

So, I don't know. Work. Yeah.

On a side note: I still have my poinsettia from Christmas. Maybe I can find a job caring for out of season plants. Except, God, I wish the poinsettia would die already. It's awkward and Christmas-y in that corner of the living room.

On another side note: I sent M to school dressed like a fairy. It's science week and the theme was "things that fly." What? That totally counts.

UPDATE: My mother would like to point out that spacial is more commonly spelled "spatial." I used both. I mean, obviously I was just trying to cover my bases and was in no way careless. That would be, well, careless. Thank you.
- The Management