Friday, May 20, 2011

It's time.

I feel my regular drop-ins at my parents' place have ceased to be a novelty.  Perhaps I'm imagining things but in the past few weeks, I've noticed:

* Mum has stopped looking up when I enter the room.
* Job vacancy pages keep finding their way into my handbag.
* The chocolate is getting harder to find. (The last lot turned up at the bottom of the laundry hamper, stuffed into a newspaper and tucked into a patchwork pillow case.)
* Dad told me to check my LinkedIn account. Which I didn't realise I had. Because he opened it on my behalf without telling me.
* I keep being asked whether I've considered joining a gym.
* Or a book club.
* Or the circus.

To be fair, it's been at least six months since the Empire collapsed and took most of my life with it. Money isn't an issue, yet, but there have been parental mutterings about "life skills." I have life skills. I can open a bottle of wine without a corkscrew. I can predict people's taste in music purely by their shoes. I can recite The Highwayman from memory. I have managed to sustain a reasonably well-functioning relationship with my boyfriend despite being forced to go camping. (See previous picture entry for evidence.) I've taught my cat to play dead. I...


I'll get a job.

I'd write *sigh* here but I don't think it sums up my lack of enthusiasm well enough.  Can you say it out loud while summoning every ounce of ennui you have?  And groan a bit?  Thanks very much.