Madhouse
I'm at my aunt's house printing some resumés. The place is a madhouse. Connie's screaming at the kids, the kids are screaming at one another, a frog hopped into the living room through the back door, and they all started screaming about that. Connie insisted it was "huge." It was two inches long, and trapped in the curtains. I scooped the poor thing up and put him outside.
I feel like I'm trapped in a Three Stooges episode. Life is slapstick of cosmic proportions. When I walked into the library this afternoon, a woman I used to work with told me she'd received a fax from some place to which I'd applied for a job. They were asking for a reference, but naturally, their fax number didn't work when she tried to reply, and the fax didn't include a letterhead indicating where it was from. I'm assuming it's from one of the Wal-Marts in Eunice or Opelousas. To briefly recap the absurdity of the situation: I turned down two potential jobs in Eunice because Donnie and I had to move to New Iberia. Then we found out Mom was either going to sell the house or be evicted, so we resolved to go back to Eunice, since Donnie's father had finally committed to a time schedule to clear his stuff out of the apartment. Consequently, I passed by a potential full-time job in New Iberia. At that time, I still thought I was going to go back to school this semester, and a full-time job wouldn't have worked, regardless of where I was living. Then school fell through because my financial aid application wasn't processed in time, and Donnie and I left Eunice yet again. He returned for a while to fix the pipes, but got into another fight with his dad recently, and decided he didn't want to live so close to his family. That was okay with me, since I already have a temporary job at The Daily Iberian, and I wasn't having any luck in Eunice. I enrolled in a Jackson Hewitt tax preparation class here to try to make some extra money on the side, and have some qualifications that I can present to potential employers, but now that I've got this going, someone in Eunice or Opelousas has apparently just decided that it might be worthwhile to call me! Well, fuck it -- even if Wal-Mart starts employees at $7.00 an hour, it was always going to be a short-term solution until I could finish school. I can't keep running back and forth, and I could probably make more money in the long-term by following through with this tax class. A friend of my mother's took the class, worked for Jackson Hewitt for two years, and now has her own business. Not that I want to make a career out of doing people's taxes, but if it'll help put me through law school, I'll do it. Meanwhile, I've updated my information at WillStaff, and am back on their availability list.
Mom ran into Charlie Brown on the street the other day, and got him to agree to sign a paper saying that if she sells the house, he and the Troll won't ask for half the money. He claimed that the Troll has been telling him she's been paying the house note, but when I went to their apartment last time, demanding to know why it hadn't been paid, she said, "Because we don't have money to pay the house note," and he was hiding in the kitchen a few feet away, so he couldn't possibly have missed it. It's too bad Donnie's grandmother can't douse them both in holy water, but on second thought, it would probably be more effective to hold their heads under.
I feel like I'm trapped in a Three Stooges episode. Life is slapstick of cosmic proportions. When I walked into the library this afternoon, a woman I used to work with told me she'd received a fax from some place to which I'd applied for a job. They were asking for a reference, but naturally, their fax number didn't work when she tried to reply, and the fax didn't include a letterhead indicating where it was from. I'm assuming it's from one of the Wal-Marts in Eunice or Opelousas. To briefly recap the absurdity of the situation: I turned down two potential jobs in Eunice because Donnie and I had to move to New Iberia. Then we found out Mom was either going to sell the house or be evicted, so we resolved to go back to Eunice, since Donnie's father had finally committed to a time schedule to clear his stuff out of the apartment. Consequently, I passed by a potential full-time job in New Iberia. At that time, I still thought I was going to go back to school this semester, and a full-time job wouldn't have worked, regardless of where I was living. Then school fell through because my financial aid application wasn't processed in time, and Donnie and I left Eunice yet again. He returned for a while to fix the pipes, but got into another fight with his dad recently, and decided he didn't want to live so close to his family. That was okay with me, since I already have a temporary job at The Daily Iberian, and I wasn't having any luck in Eunice. I enrolled in a Jackson Hewitt tax preparation class here to try to make some extra money on the side, and have some qualifications that I can present to potential employers, but now that I've got this going, someone in Eunice or Opelousas has apparently just decided that it might be worthwhile to call me! Well, fuck it -- even if Wal-Mart starts employees at $7.00 an hour, it was always going to be a short-term solution until I could finish school. I can't keep running back and forth, and I could probably make more money in the long-term by following through with this tax class. A friend of my mother's took the class, worked for Jackson Hewitt for two years, and now has her own business. Not that I want to make a career out of doing people's taxes, but if it'll help put me through law school, I'll do it. Meanwhile, I've updated my information at WillStaff, and am back on their availability list.
Mom ran into Charlie Brown on the street the other day, and got him to agree to sign a paper saying that if she sells the house, he and the Troll won't ask for half the money. He claimed that the Troll has been telling him she's been paying the house note, but when I went to their apartment last time, demanding to know why it hadn't been paid, she said, "Because we don't have money to pay the house note," and he was hiding in the kitchen a few feet away, so he couldn't possibly have missed it. It's too bad Donnie's grandmother can't douse them both in holy water, but on second thought, it would probably be more effective to hold their heads under.