Most people realize that we moved to the South because my lovely and vivacious wife got a job offer that she just couldn’t refuse.
So for the past month, I have been a house-husband, made all the more difficult by the fact that we don’t actually have a “house” as such, but are merely squatting in my sister’s house for the time being. Consequently, there is little for me to occupy my time with. I could do the laundry, but my lovely and vivacious wife [wisely] prohibits me from touching her clothes.
Now I’m running out of things to do. I have already spent one entire day cleaning my sister’s kitchen, scrubbing her floors and cabinets. I’ve also rearranged her kitchen, placing her foodstuffs into some semblance of order.
Most people would likely say that this was my plan all along. Justified or not, I have earned a reputation of being a bit of a lay-about. Thankfully, my lovely and vivacious wife would probably contradict this—as a point of pride, I can state that in the past, I was unemployed for approximately a year but was able to find temporary, paying work for every single working day that year—but the unspoken accusation still stings, and cabin-fever is defiantly setting in.
The best way to combat this fever (aside from hitting Jack Nicholson with an axe) would be simply to become employed. Unfortunately, I am one of the countless masses who desperately desires to work, but is unable to actually get a job. So instead of working, I spend my days drinking too much coffee and watching movies. (The Full Monty, Mr. Mom, and Platoon have all failed to cheer me up).
Mercifully, I do have an interview on the horizon, and the job—while not offering much in the way of pay—would be infinitely fulfilling. So here’s to keeping your fingers’ crossed for me.