it's 7.30 and i'm wide awake. i start my new job that i have been asking small baby dinosaurs for since i became unemployed, but now i actually have a job i don't want it. since being out of work i've had a glimpse of life, real life; painting, restoring old furniture, and most importantly, writing. i'm so so so close to finishing my book, days have merged into one, like a big marble cake. i get up, i make coffee, i write. i eat when i'm hungry and not when somebody tells me its lunchtime. i spend days in my workshop, breathing in the smell of paint and inks and general woody smell. i stitch together little christmas mice and only stop when i realise it's gotten dark and i have a slice of homemade apple pie waiting for me in the house.
in short, my time has been mine to do with how i please. but my overdraft won't stretch any further, and i have rent to pay.
i've been technically looking for a job ever since i left my last one, but after a few rejections a few more came, and i got used to them, to the point where i found myself applying for jobs i had no intention of wanting, but just because i new i wouldn't get them anyway and i could say to people that i was still looking.
but now i have one. and it starts soon. and all i want is coffee. and it's cold outside and i want to dive under the duvet and pretend it was all a bad dream. and somehow we'll live happily ever after on my ever increasing overdraft.
so, welcome to day 1 of my misery. and it does like company.
wish me luck.