It’s getting to me.
Not going out all day, not really doing anything that feels like doing something. I can sit here in our room and watch movies, and knit (I’m almost done with the golden tunic, and waiting to start on the grey cardigan), but no matter what I tell myself, no matter what I do, I feel like I’m wasting time.
I haven’t heard back from the guy at the head hunters place. I said I’d call him on Wednesday by noon if he didn’t call me back, but I didn’t, and if he didn’t call me, then it’s pretty apparent that they’re not interested. I could have the bookstore job if I called them back and said yes, but when it comes right down to it, I don’t want it. Not 6 days a week. I have another interview on Saturday for a place in town. It’s five days a week and the ad said salary is negotiable. I hope that means it’s possible they would pay me something decent. I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t even know if they’ll like me.
I hate feeling useless. I’ll never know how Rob can play that game all fucking day and not be bored. Not feel like he’s wasting his life. I guess we don’t think the same way. I don’t know what I’m expecting myself to be doing that’s so great to fill me with such a sense of purpose, but whatever it is, I’m not doing it. Maybe I’m overthinking. Maybe I just have too much time to think about how I’m not doing anything.
At least I’ll have a new sweater soon.