Nice Things

In case there was any question stubbornly lingering in anyone's mind, it's confirmed: I am not having kids. I just bought a white genuine sheepskin rug. Probably I am not even having kids in my house anymore.

In the old apartment, I had seen a YouTube video about how to make your own faux sheepskin rug, and I optimistically went to JoAnn's and bought some furry fabric, but I skipped the step of attaching non-skid material underneath and went straight to cutting the fabric in a squiggle like a dead animal with too many limbs. Also, the fake fur was kind of brownish-gray because that's what was on sale. I'm not sure what kind of animal it resembled, if any. I used it as an extra patch of rug, since my rug wasn't big enough. It was more for looks, which is sad if you think about everything I just disclosed, since it was hazardous to actually step on the slippery thing. It doesn't look any less pathetic in the new place, under my luxurious new chaise lounge.

This sheepskin rug was the most expensive impulse purchase I've ever considered making. I realize it's not an impulse purchase if you didn't actually make it, and only considered making it, plus it was already on my mental list of things to buy someday, but I did end up going back and buying it so if I had bought it when I impulsively considered buying it, then it would have been. But I digress.

I bought it at Costco. As I am leaving with my rug and my frozen box of too many pot pies, the guy whose job it is to drag his Sharpie over my receipt asks excitedly, "Do you own a fireplace?" An odd choice of words. Not only do I not own a fireplace, I do not even rent a fireplace. I do not have a fireplace or a spouse to veto my impulse purchase or any kids at all to spill grape juice on this rug, not that it's any of your business, Sharpie-dragger. But I have been caught red-handed, arrested, forced to defend myself while I watch the permanent black ink mar the thermal record of my purchase in slow motion. I consider lying: Not Guilty. "...because that would be perfect!" he finishes.

"Oh... yeah." 

But excitement about my new rug is already deflated by this employee's excitement for it. Who am I to be buying a sheepskin rug? I don't even own a fireplace. I own twenty-four frozen pot pies that are disgusting, that I will eat alone, that I will regret buying. This is not the saddest part of the story.

This is the saddest part of the story: the part where I go home and look up Sheepskin Rug on Pinterest to make sure that a fireplace isn't required. I am satisfied to find that I can't even find one picture with a fireplace. Then I remember that cheery Costco guy writes a black line on a piece of paper over and over again for seventeen dollars an hour, and wonder what made him think of a fireplace.

Squatty Potty, part 2

I realize this is now going to be my second post about buying a squatty potty at Bed Bath and Beyond. The first time it really wasn't for me. 

This time I was shopping online. Bed Bath and Beyond let me know that This item is frequently purchased with: and then showed me poo-pourri (so far I'm following), a 7.5 inch strainer that looks like a smaller version of what you'd skim a swimming pool with, and a platter. Excuse me?? Which one of you is purchasing those items together, and what are you doing with them?! I don't like this story you're telling me, Bed Bath and Beyond.

Time Travelers

Time Travelers of Oregon showed up on my credit card statement for a supposed transaction on June 14, and my first (completely logical) thought was as follows: Wow, in the future, time traveling will be a popular pastime, so popular that each region will have their own Time Travelers club! And the Oregon branch of the Time Travelers has stolen my identity and is paying $24 worth of club expenses with my account! 

Then I looked at my calendar to see if I would remember what I bought that day, but I mixed up the numbers and thought the transaction was from the 24th and was like HOLY SHIT the time travelers spent my money in the future! but then I remembered I shouldn't be that impressed because they're time travelers and also I went antiquing that day but that was NOT the name on the building.

Gifts from my Neighbor

Items my upstairs neighbor has left me on my patio and in my vegetable garden over the course of our time together:

• 17 beer cans
• 2 cigarette cartons
• 4 tennis balls
• 5 dog bones
• 2 tennis balls
• water from 1 overturned dog bowl, 2 feet from my head
• 1 used disposable glove
• white paint splatters that have made "bird poop chic" a permanent part of my patio aesthetic
• 2 rotting limes
• 2 plastic bags
• 1 half-full can of spray paint
• 1 mechanical pencil
• 52 cigarette butts
• 1.5 peanut shells
• 1 half eaten orange
• orange peels
• various plastic bits
• constant sense of dread

Goodbye and good luck, the slum.

Hitler in the Kitchen

I decided to read this book about Hitler and it turned out to be a million pages, so I was making very slow progress. Meanwhile this huge hardback has just been sitting at my table, keeping me company. I started talking to Hitler instead of my plants: What should we have for dinner, Hitler? I've been using Hitler as a computer riser when I have an interview, and he does a great job. Hitler's a real pal.

The inside of the book is pretty good, too. I'm still at the beginning part where Hitler is just a nobody and I don't think I'm supposed to feel inspired by it? I mean he was really floundering there for awhile. 

Hitler went back to the library today and I'm really gonna miss that guy. We spent 6 renewals together, which is something like 21 weeks. I only made it to page 61 of 2,937,533, but maybe that's for the best.

How the Job Search Is Going

My job search so far:

• One recruiter sent a message to all applicants, exposing our competition's identities and contact information to each other.
• A temp agency that used to call me with jobs called me with candidates instead. I feel like I'm moving up in the world. Also, if I need to fall back on them for work, I already know who my competition is.
• 90% of recruiters ghosted me, one after four interviews, including a case study that I spent hours preparing for.
• "When you start you'll just be putting out fires." Points for honesty?
• One interviewer told me I would actually be logging in to Salesforce and sharing my screen and that the interview would be recorded. The amount of notice I had about these details: None.
• One interviewer did not say words. I wasn't sure if he wanted me to conduct the interview or what. I inexplicably tortured myself with a second interview with him, during which he was again mysteriously mute unless he was giving a one-word answer to the questions I felt compelled to fill the silence with.

To be fair:

• I told one interviewer I don't like their products.
• I may have been kinda high during a morning interview.
• I joined a Zoom interview with a giant pair of underwear as my background.

Working at Sea

I got tired of interviewing for good jobs so I started looking at crap jobs instead. I clicked on an ad for being a seafood processor at sea and OH MY GOD did I go down a rabbit trail. Sixteen hour days, seven days a week. So you get eight hours to sleep which is probably fine since you probably just fall asleep immediately. 

I wasn't done yet -- I checked out the other jobs on the ships and thought Housekeeper, that's got to be easier. But it turns out they work sixteen-hour shifts too. How about Data Manager, surely that's gotta be -- nope, they work sixteen hours too! How much Data is there to Manage?! And not only that, they are also responsible for providing medical assistance to injured and ill crew members! I think they are going to be bad at one of those tasks and I hope it's not the medical assistance!

The contracts are all 65 days, I assume because that's as long as human beings can stand to live in a constant fish-scented manual labor trapped-at-sea environment with no weekends or free time whatsoever. Instead of clicking away at that point, I was doing the math and trying to figure out the pay, which varies a lot based on whether you're at the low or high end of the range. Either way: Not. Worth. It. They have a statement about equal opportunity for women and it also says you're living in close quarters and sharing bathrooms and stuff and, I don't know, I just don't think they're set up for women.

I suddenly feel a lot better about being merely unemployed.