So, with Dave being a real estate broker ("broker" being the operative word), I decided to take a look and see what's out there in the working world for yours truly. Don't be alarmed. It's not like I would actually do it. I was simply curious. And it looks like it would have been a no-go anyway. I'm pretty worthless, it seems. Yes, I have two degrees from Michigan State (Advertising and Interior Design) but I haven't worked in 15 years. And even then, what I could piece together as a resume is hardly going to blow any minds. It's rather underwhelming. Let's see......education? Well, I WAS in college for nine years. Interviewer: "Well, Mollie, I see that you in school for nine years.....what's up with that?" Me: "Uhhhhhhh.......I dunno". After college I worked for my dad. Because he paid for my near decade of higher education he was complicit and cold hardly hold it against me. Plus, it was either give me a job or have me move back home. My duties largely consisted of driving to his office a couple of times a week. We would have lunch together (paid for by dad) and then shoot the shit for a couple of hours. I had to buy tv and radio advertising occasionally, so I got some pretty cool schwag.......concert and sporting tickets, trips to Disney World, etc. And I was compensated rather handsomely for this difficult 6-hour a week assignment. I actually continued with this gig after getting married and moving to Colorado. Shit, who wouldn't? Long distance shit-shooting is still billable. Then dad sold the business. Which if you want my opinion, was pretty rude. After that, I had a "real" job for a year. Interior design. I was making mad cash but I also almost ended up in a padded room. It was quickly determined that while jobs are all well and good, they are not for me. Even my dad, who is possession of a rather legendary work ethic sadly conceded this fact. So it seemed as good a time as any to have a baby. Well, that didn't go too well at first. Two miscarriages and three years later, bouncing baby Jack was born. And so for the last eleven years, I've been a mom. And to the surprise of many, a pretty damn good one. I don't think the appropriate response when at 32 you tell your friends and family that you are having a baby is "Oh dear." IN YO' FACES! I SHOCKED THE SHIT OUT OF ALL Y'ALL!!!!! How you like me NOW? But back to the job thing. And yes I know from personal experience that being a mom is the hardest job there is, so don't send me angry emails. I am here to tell you that a LOT can change in a decade. When I was poking around looking at jobs, I hadn't even HEARD of some of the computer programs the design firms want you to be able to operate. What happened to CAD? I'm a dinosaur, it seems. Even if I could acquire the necessary skills, it's the "working with people" part that is problematic. I simply do not play well with others. Control freaks with ADHD and some obsessive compulsive traits and not cut out for the traditional workplace. And then there is the whole "inability to behave appropriately" piece. That's kinda huge. So, I am essentially unemployable. I need a job that I can do alone and that can be done in fits and starts as I am oft distracted by shiny objects. And it has to be a job that doesn't interfere with my obsessively compulsive exercise schedule. My workday must end by 4, 'cause that's when Jack gets home from school and is also coincidentally when cocktail hour begins. And the biggest thing is that I have to able to say all sorts of crazy shit. So I'm pretty sure my options are limited to becoming a panhandling bag lady or repairing barbed-wire fences on lonely stretches of rural Wyoming highway. Or writing this blog. The only problem is that you usually get paid for jobs. Damn. The panhandling thing would pay better. Do bag ladies have iPhones? 'Cause that's staying. I can see it now......"Oh, kind sir.....could you spare but a shilling for a poor bag lady of simple means? (weakly rattles tin cup of coins) Oh wait a sec......I just got an email". I had better figure out a way to get paid for this blog thing.