So, I’ve given up men for money. Who wouldn’t when they realize that 50+ available men are slim pickings? They are either bad news or…..well, there’s a reason they’re single and 50. What I probably need is a dating site for widowers. But, girlfriend doesn’t have time for that right now.
I’ve been hired to work concessions at a park in the county on the weekends I’m not with my kids and what could be better? Besides cleaning a public restroom and picking up trash? Not much. I’ll still get to see my kids and when they aren’t here, I’ll be spending 10-12 hours a weekend getting exercise and being outside. I can read if I want, write if I want, eat snacks…it’s perfect. And my bosses are very nice. Very bend-over-backwards-to-make-this-work nice.
I’m really looking forward to starting the job, the weekend after spring break. I’ve accomplished most of what I wanted out of these free weekends over the past two years and really I need the extra cash. I have huge amounts of debt to pay down, a trip to England to pay for and maybe, just maybe, a dishwasher to buy. Yes. I’m actually considering it again. It’s a matter of saving time. I’ve lived my entire adult life without one. I’ve raised two children without one. I think the time has come to consider this huge expense a worthwhile one again.
I also have to put a new roof on the house which is due for replacement at about the same time Dusty will be applying for college. Naturally. Because that’s how life works. But, right now, I’m not going to worry about that.
Instead, I’ll worry about the little things. Like how my body is starting to break down, bit by bit. The arthritis in one of my big toes has spread into my foot making every step a little painful. I’m ignoring it. How the weird heartburn in my neck might mean I’m having a small heart attack every day but the EKG and blood work say otherwise. How I’m needing my chiropractor and massage therapists (yes, I have more than one) more often than not because one long bout in the garden just about does me in. How I worry about longevity and the lack thereof. How everyone is dying and I could be next. How I just want to live long enough to see my children grow up. How I wish my family wanted to be around my children as much as I do. How I’ll never be able to see out my retirement dream of a small house on a huge piece of land with goats and bees because I’ll be too crippled to do it. How something even more awful, something I can’t even speak about, might happen and send the whole house of cards falling down. So, we won’t even think about it. Deal? Deal.
So, I have one final bachelorette weekend and then a long spring break (mine will be Wed-Tues because that’s just how it is) and then the job will start and my gardening will be fitted in where it I can fit it. I won’t get quite as much sleep as I like but hey, first world, white girl privilege problems, right? I’ve done worse. I’ve always done what needs to be done. So if you’re in the park this summer, stop by and say hi. I can sell you a $1 bottle of water and a $1 candy bar. I’ll keep your bathrooms clean and I’ll pick up the trash you dropped when you missed the trash can. I’ll keep an eye out for scofflaws while I’m doing it. What’s a 52-hour week? Pffft. If it means less debt, a possible dishwasher and a trip to England? Piece of cake.