“Of course motivation is not permanent. But then, neither is bathing; but it is something you should do on a regular basis.” ― Zig Ziglar
Two weeks later. The euphoria has worn off. I feel like I’m writing in dribs and drabs most of the time, catching a spare moment here and there between doing laundry and the dishes and all the chores inherent in being home during the day now. I used to squeeze those in at night and on the weekends, but now I feel guilty if I don’t do them while Simon is out looking for work. He’s been hitting up restaurants, bars and nightclubs to see if he can get a bartending or waiter position, since he has some experience with that from way back when.
I also feel compelled to start applying to restaurants and bars for the following positions: hostess, cocktail waitress, regular waitress. And, guess what? Not one shred of an offer in the restaurant industry. Either they’re not hiring at all or they look at my resume with bewildered amusement: I’m way overqualified and even though my resume reflects the hostess and waitress work I did in college – and I did a lot of that – it was 10 years ago! So, despite my valiant effort to earn some extra cash, there are only closed doors as far as restaurants and bars are concerned. I’m firmly ensconced now as one of the overqualified and underemployed.
So, I stick to my writing. As soon as Simon leaves the house, I try to quickly get on the laptop. I feel such a sense of gratitude and relief at the sudden peace and quiet in the house. And, then the phone rings or the drier buzzes loud enough to scare the neighbors (our washer/dryer is in the kitchen. But I am grateful to have a washer/dryer in the apartment in the first place, so I have to count my blessings). So, I just deal with it. I am not going to start whining during my first month of freedom. Well, not too much. Just a whit of whining. That’s it!