Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Part-Time Lover

I think the low point was when I called about a birth control study offering compensation. 

"Okay, no placebos. Huh, they wrote that twice.  I wonder why that's impor-- oh, I see.  Compensation for travel.  Good.  Pills and IUD.  Hmmm....  Great for people with no insurance.  Yeah, I bet--- What?  What am I--?  Heather, what are you doing?  Back away from the Craigslist."

I've been looking for a part-time job for a few weeks now, preferably office work, but to little avail.  Most leads are soon squelched.  My hours of availability are random.  I called about a possible nannying job, but when I heard three separate high-pitched  screams in the background from children aged 5,6, and 8, respectively, I politely declined.  

I interviewed to nanny a six-month old yesterday, and was fairly speechless when she asked for any childcare references.

"I like you," the young mother smiled later.  "And Gadia likes you, too."  It was true--the chubby little blonde hadn't stopped staring at me with her big eyes since I walked in the door.  The mother's eyes had gotten just as big when I acquiesced the information that I was married and, oh, wait for it, 21 years old.  "I knew from when I spoke with you on the phone that you'd be so friendly."

"But," I was tempted to add, "I have no references, and you're not interested in hiring some stranger off the street to care for your firstborn."

She followed my thought with a similar thought pattern spoken aloud.

I wake up with Michael in the mornings.  It's only right.  But I know it's a little disconcerting to him to leave his wife sitting at home on the couch all day, even if she is doing homework and doing stupid home-ish things like insurance and banking paperwork.  But he hasn't complained yet, and he even comes home during his lunch hour to keep me company--a more than welcome distraction.  Even today he said:

"You're a perfect amount of needy.  You're not clingy, but you make me feel needed.  I like that," he offered.

I then clung perfectly and desperately to his leg as he walked to his car, bumping quietly down the steps.  I didn't want to see the couch ever again.

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