What To Be When I Grow Up, Part Two

Damns, I have an itch.  Well, I have that rash on my face and neck from the Euphorbia plant in the yard, but I also have another big itch, on a more life-scale level.  (See, now that totally just made my neck rash itch.  Wtf?  Anyway.)

I need a job.  I want money.  I know, I know, "more money, more problems", etc.  But also, better STUFF WOOT!

Now.  What to be.  I have culled some options from the last five years of being jobless (except that OH YEAH GROW, BIRTHE AND KEEP THREE HUMANS ALIVE JOB).

People are all the time saying I should be something.  I will choose from this pool of suggestions in ranking order of frequency, then let's discuss pros and cons.

1.  Writer:  WELL I'M WRITING, AIN'T I?  Where's my damn paycheck?  I know people who've been writing for their whole career and they still rent railroad apartments in Roger's Park and cling to their only paid gig at "AARP Newletter, Midwest Edition" to pay the minimum on the liberal arts degree student loans.  You heard me say I want MONEY, right?


2.  Lawyer.  Okay, we have the cash part wrapped up with this one, there's just that whole inconvenient law school issue and then the mammoth debt that comes with it.  I'm told one can't find a job after school and if you do, you work like waaay too much.  Forget that.   Money: good.  Actual 'work': bad.


3.  Designer.  Too vague.  Except I did make this last week!  It's a fairy house for the modern fairy who likes to travel.  The kids played with it.  Temporarily.  I think it needs more "features".  Just when you're thinking it's never to late to talk to your kids about the virtues of Scandinavian minimalist architecture you find out: it's too late.  They no longer care.  Still keeping Fairy Home Builder on my resume.

4.  Developer/ house flipper:  This one is my favie lately because I renovated the bathroom and it turned out well.  I can just see myself on that show though, where people try to flip a house in Palo Alto and then they're up to their ass in old electrical (surprise!) and, like, termites or something and then the next thing you know, they have to move into the house in the Palo Alto with the termites and you sadly watch as their choice in kitchen tile goes from Italian marble down to faux-parquette laminate until they finally unload the place for less than they paid because they are in the process of a divorce borne from the terrible choice to flip a house.  Hmmm.  I'ma give this one more thought.

So, as part of my many-layered Pre-Midlife Crisis, I will add new career to the emotional melee.

Perfect.  That's just great.