Most of my posts are composed the night before and posted to appear the next day. I'm trying to multi-task by blogging at night and hunting for jobs during day. Not sure if I'm doing well on either front.
I spend nearly as much time blogging and commenting as I do job hunting. I'm sure that this is wrong, but I can't seem to help myself!
In the past two weeks I hooked up with two new headhunters and applied for ten jobs. I also received three rejections. Ten jobs, three rejections... I'm still coming out on top!
The two new headhunters told me that my dream of relocating to Raleigh may not be feasible. Apparently, it's a great job market for people who are in the pharmaceutical or IT fields. But not for me. I may have to extend my range to include most of the east coast. Fuck.
My typical day since going on terminal leave is as follows: go to the YMCA for Muffin's swim lessons as well as
I'm getting addicted to staying at home.
Muffin and I are both getting addicted to waking up later and eating breakfast around 8:30AM.
Fiber One cereal for breakfast + Fiber One bar for snack = Shart. I know I'm not the first to report this, but it's a little disconcerting and I intend to switch up either my breakfast choice or my snack choice. Pronto.
Muffin had a major wipe-out the other day. She was running to the front door in order to avoid the rain but wound up tripping over her flip-flops and busting her ass instead. I had to clip a large flap of skin off of her big toe and apply four band-aids to various parts of her lower extremities. While I was doing this, she was screaming at the top of her lungs. Because pain sucks. And when you're five years old you can holler about it as much as you want.
This wipe-out served as a reminder that I will soon be without health insurance. And so will Muffin. Fuck!
Searching for health insurance in the web not advisable. They ask you to enter your phone number and within three minutes (NO - I'm totally not kidding!) five random strangers will call you and pitch their sale. Arrgghh.
Getting new insurance means giving Jackass a new insurance card for Muffin. Which will probably raise more questions than I'm ready to answer right now. He doesn't know that I've sold the house and quit the Navy. Full disclosure? I think not.
I had hoped Jackass would want to start his last full week of visitation on Saturday because I have a job conference to go to on Monday. Hellz no. Thank God for the grandparents!
I bought a new suit for the conference - black with black stripes. Very professional, very mature and very like something Agent Smith from the Matrix would wear. Heaven help the interviewer if his name is "Mr. Anderson."
Well, that's all for now... Gotta get my nose back against the grindstone. Happy Humpday!