Home again. Home again.
My dad used to always say that ("Home again. Home again.") when we'd arrive home from somewhere. Maybe he still does, and I've just gotten used to it so I don't even notice anymore. Well, anyway, I've been home for a week now. I haven't gotten my *big, exciting, first real job* yet. On the one hand, sitting around the house all summer isn't all that appealing, because although there are many productive things I could be doing with my time, I know myself, and I know I'll waste it. But on the other hand, doing something like running a cash register or waiting on people all day aren't all that appealing either, though I would be getting paid for my labor. Plus, I'm nineteen fucking years old. I feel as if society frowns upon people my age who've never been employed. I guess what society thinks isn't really a main concern of mine... Oh, but then there's my mom. This summer is going to be like living with the Devil herself if I don't find some form of employment to appease her. I think babysitting wouldn't be too bad. I like kids, and I've heard it isn't really hard. I guess it really depends on the kids though. I've never 'babysat' before though. I feel like again, at my age (you know, of such old, wise, ripe, ancientness), I should have experience... Bah! I have a list to attend to at least. A summer "To Do" list. Right now I keep reading over it thinking, "I've got all summer to do all of this," but I know if I don't get started soon, summer will be over, and I won't get it all done.