I've never really been unemployed before. Before now, that is. Interestingly enough (or not, depending on your position on unemployment) my recent lack of income has nothing to do with the economy, or a related downsizing company, or a result of being fired for blogging on company time. It was, as you know, a result of willingly leaving my job behind when I left Philadelphia for the snowier pastures of New England.
Also interestingly enough (again, depending) is that this is also the first time I've had a mortgage hanging over my head. No big deal, right? That's my new life philosophy anyway. No. Big. Deal.
Now that we're about as settled as we can be before we transition into the house, I'm at the point where my current unemployment is beginning to become obvious. Like a stubbed toe.
Yesterday was B's first day of work. So when he went off to the tennis club to teach some lessons, I went to take a fitness class with one of my sister-in-laws, who is home from college.
This class, appropriately titled "muscle mix," I have found to be deceiving. Deceiving, mostly because I deceived myself into thinking I could keep up with the (other?) housewives (am I a housewife now? Or just an unemployed wife?) and retirees. Maybe there were some other unemployed people in there as well. Let's call them unempleople. I can do that now, give this group cute nicknames, because I'm one of them. You, however, you peobs (people with jobs), can not just go around mashing words regarding employment together and calling them adorable. We unempleople might get offended, depending on our mood and whether or not we've had an afternoon snack.
Anyway, when everyone selected their hand weights before class began, I chose the same weight as everyone else. Which, incidentally, resulted in quite a bit of time spent lying on my back on my exercise mat, wondering if it would just break my face, or in fact fracture my entire skull when the two 10-pounds weights (I never said I was strong) that were shaking rather precariously above my face fell out of my hands (they didn't).
After the class, I showered, made myself presentable and perhaps even moderately professional looking, and went to a job interview. This is something I assume is carried out by unempleople rather often.
But this interview, one of the crabillions we unempleople have gone on recently, I'll talk about tomorrow. Because, you know, I have a little bit of time on my hands these days for things like blogging.
I wonder what else unempleople do. Because so far, all I've managed to do is take fitness classes. And when you're married to a boy who works at a fitness club, why not? Thank gah he's not a baker. Or a taxidermist. Or a hairdresser. Because after two days I'd either be fat, bald, or wondering how to best mount (double entendre) that annoying child in front of me in line at the grocery store.
Anyway, when I got home from the interview, the same sister-in-law and I went to another class. This one, spinning, I will certainly regret tomorrow morning when I can't walk down the steps. Good thing there's a morning yoga class.