The ins and outs of a young library media specialist's life. Rock, rock on.

Monday, October 30, 2006

Someday I'll Find Me a Sugar Daddy

...But until then, such is my life.

Cripes. There has been a little black storm cloud hanging over my head for the past 5 days and I forgot my umbrella.

It all started last week when my body decided to malfunction and I stayed in bed Thursday and Friday, wishing I was well enough to be in my lovely library. By Saturday I had mostly recovered from my sudden illness, just in time for a raging New England storm complete with driving rain and gale-force winds to strike the city. Oh, and did I mention that I had to go look for a new apartment out in the fair fall weather? Nothing like wading through a river of city trash that got stuck in the swollen storm drains and dripping your soggy umbrella all over someone else's apartment.

To top things off I woke up on Sunday morning to get ready to go to church (yes, you read that correctly), only to realize that I had woken up a wee bit earlier than intended- like a whole hour. Damn you, Daylight Savings! You get me every time. Anyway, back to the church bit: I am now the proud godmother of an angelic little boy and I have renounced Satan from my life in front of an entire Catholic congregation. There's nothing more uncomfortable to me than organized religion and there's nowhere I feel more out of place than in a church. As I was sitting directly in the front row, I worked very hard at holding my tongue and not cracking jokes, but a few slipped out. At one point the priest was holding the baby, who was placidly sucking on his finger, and Father Whatshisname declared: "99 out of 100 babies agree: Father Mc[insert Irish name here] tastes delicious!"

You can imagine the lengths I had to go to to cover up my snort of laughter. The entire chuch community probably thinks I'm apoplectic or something. It was all just so... boring. At least if they were preaching fire and brimstone it would be interesting; I just can't hack the listless, uninterested priests and parish members.

Moving on, I think we have found a suitable place to live. One slight problem: my salary is less than stellar at the mo'. Seriously, Massachusetts with it's 8% income tax and 11% retirement deduction and union dues? I might as well work at Starbucks. (Speaking of, if anyone knows of anyone looking for some after-school hours help, I would love to be a coffee brewer or some such nonsense a few days a week.) So once again, I find myself over a barrel with the cash flow, which is not a good situation to be in in any case, let alone two months before Christmas.

Regardless, I need to not be homeless and as such I will find a way to persevere. Sally forth, dear readers. Onward and upward. Brave smiles.

3 Comments:

Anonymous megan rocks hardcore!

I believe Barista is the term you are looking for.
If you ask me, it's no better than saying petroleum transfer attendant.
And the only reason I make fun is because I was one.

7:02 PM

 
Blogger Aaron rocks hardcore!

I know what you mean about religious ceremonies. The last time I was involved in one, some weird priest dude ripped out my still-beating heart, then lowered me into a pit of lava as a sacrifice.

Wait, I'm sorry, that was a scene from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. I always confuse that movie with my life; it must be because I, too, carry a bullwhip around.

Er, anyway, cheer up, Charlie. At least you don't have to get up everyday and put on a shirt that identifies you as "wicked cool staff".

9:10 PM

 
Blogger NancyPearlWannabe rocks hardcore!

I'll barista the pants off the people of Boston.

Oh, and Ace? I wish I got to wear a shirt that said "Wicked Cool Librarian".

10:08 AM

 

Post a Comment

<< Home

 
hit counter