It’s official. I have become one of those old ladies who makes the lines move slowly at the supermarket. It is a challenge to us, old ladies, to not tell the cashier way too many details about our days. We can’t help it. We don’t have too many people to talk to.
Yes, I talk to my husband about 99% of my waking time, but what would be the point of telling him the stories about my day? I mean, he was there!
I guess it comes with having absolutely no friends, family or co-workers around. Which is a weird concept. But it’s happening right now.
So, I’ve applied for the simplest jobs human kind has ever invented, just ’cause we needed some sort of income (right?) and I’m very used to being a provider, I can’t deal with the “Should I spend 4 dollars on something I don’t really absolutely need or will that leave me with no money for milk by the end of the week?” paranoia.
But it didn’t work.
I did get one call back from a borderline volunteer job, which I couldn’t do because I can’t drive – and we don’t have a car, so there…-
At some point it crossed my mind that I might be too old to be applying for jobs. Maybe they would rather have some kid selling you a movie ticket or helping you out at the book store.
Maybe I just look like a mom, in my sweaters and my profile doesn’t fit the workforce – of any kind – anymore.
I guess I’m gonna have to keep talk to myself.
I’ve got faith on the husband, though. I gotta have.
Good luck for us…