Obligatory exposition on work and jobs

So in Washington, I had no job. As soon as I got there, I put my well-honed job-hunting skills to work like the responsible adult that I am, searching out every available opportunity to find a source of employment, but for weeks, not a thing was to be found.

Everywhere I went, (which was nowhere because A. I didn't want to spend money on gas and it was really cold and B. because there was snow. So much snow, and my delicate southern sensibilities couldn't handle it.) I had my eyes out for an employment opportunity. I made a profile on Care.com, trying for babysitting jobs, or tutoring jobs because that's what I'm really good at, but nothing happened. Probably because everyone wanted a nanny who would take the kids outside and I'm really bad at pretending to like the outdoors. I mean, yes, I like them and they're pretty and nice to look at, but do I spend excessive amounts of time out there, exercising? No, of course not. There's no power source or wireless internet out there with which I constantly check my savings portfolio, so how am I supposed to function?

But since everybody there really really likes Outside, I was out of luck because they wanted their children to be Outside, and I want the opposite of that.

My chance finally came, when, after two months of luckless applications, (including applying to a fast food restaurant that called me for an interview two months later, as I was making plans to move back east), I got two job offers at the same time and, like the foolish job-hungry soul who never plans on free time and is overly ambitious about earning money that I am, I took them both.

The thing about having more than one job is that not only is it a busy life, but training for two jobs at the same time is a little overwhelming. You're in two new environments learning two new and completely separate sets of skills, and it's just about as tiring as it can be. And if you don't like one of those jobs and would, in fact, rather spend your time at the dentist's having your teeth pulled with tweezers, that makes everything a little bit harder. So if, after two weeks of disliking a job, you feel like quitting, it's such a beautiful option. You look at it and consider it and it's so pretty and shiny, and a chorus sings in the background.

I quit.

And worked evenings at my other job, where I made food for people in a hotel by cutting up cheese and microwaving meat, and then spent three hours smiling and talking and generally being as friendly as possible, until it was time to clean up and hide away in the kitchen, washing dishes. Then I would take the trash out and try to talk to the desk clerk who always went with me, which didn't always work out as well as expected. Then I would drive home, and every time I got halfway there the same song would play on the radio, which told me I was right on time.

My life fell into a pattern pretty quickly, which made my life choices pretty cool. So far I've noticed that moving frequently means stability is pretty much out the window, but it also means I can take just about any job I want with no worries about getting stuck in a rut. I'll be leaving again soon anyway, so who cares if it's a lame job? As long as I'm getting payed, it's pretty cool and then it's time to move on.

Of course it's not very grown up or mature of me to view everything with such casual transience, but I think I make up for it with my dedication to finding work and incredible responsibility, as a trade-off for my short attention span and-

My bad

...Oops.

So after a year of not writing, I find I have so many things to catch up on, and so many very mature adult adventures to recount.

The funny thing about being an adult is that it means you don't really have time for other things, like living your life. And then other things crop up that demand your attention and the things you want to do and have been meaning to do, but too bad you have to focus on making sure your life doesn't run off the tracks and crash into a deep ravine of the worst adult things you can imagine, like unemployment and bankruptcy and eating junk food.

The unfunny thing about being an adult is that not many things that happen to a mature and responsible person are that funny. There's not much humor to be found in rent or utility bills.

Fear not, though, I will find the best of my adventures to tell, and I will put them here to the best of my ability, with complete honesty and sincerity and seriousness. I have learned that as an adult, the more serious you are the better. Laughter is for the immature.