Which is probably good, because that’s one room in the house where Jack won’t accidentally burn himself. We looked into radiator covers, but they are about three hundred bucks a pop (each one has to be custom made). Anyway, it gets cold in bathroom. I took a bath this morning to fend off my weary knee joints – hoping the hot water would help. Really, I just wanted to start reading Jeanette Winterson’s book, “Oranges are Not the Only Fruit” and the bath seems to be one of the only places I allow myself to read for enjoyment.
I’m not completely irresponsible – just this morning after dropping Jack off at day care, I came home to check email and do a quick job search (I’ve pretty much taken a break from sending out resumes- I think the key is to focus on networking). Of the 20+ cover letters and applications I’ve sent out in the last three weeks, my only real job bite has been through a woman that Ed knows at school. She teaches in the education department, but also works at Mazer, a company out of Ohio with Boston offices that produces educational materials. Two weeks ago I sent my resume to the people in Ohio, received a writing sample to edit, sent it back, confirmed its receipt, but haven’t heard back. This week I tried to connect with the executive editor in Boston, but no luck yet. This morning, the woman who works with Ed emailed me to let me know that she might have some freelance work available. Tomorrow I meet with a temp agency in downtown Boston to take a myriad of computer tests (bought my “Excel” study guide at Brookline Booksmith the other day to study). Friday I meet with a guy who worked at Pearson Publishing and is working for a literary agency (thanks, Nicole, for the contact). Next week I start the re-training for scoring online SAT essays. So, maybe the job situation is coming together, hey?
With all of this in mind, I activated our new cell phone with a Boston phone number (thus adding another layer of concrete on our Boston-as-home foundation), put the kettle on and ran the bath. Of course, with the workers hammering the hell out of the house – putting on vinyl siding—my sore knee joints ended up taking a back seat to an emerging headache. I persevered through the first chapter of “Oranges,” turning up the jets to drown out some of the construction, popped a Naproxin to knock out all the physical pain and focused on the mental relief of “things working out.”