On trying hard to maintain that last shred of purposefulness. Is that even a word? Do I even care?

First of all, thanks to everyone for the e-mails of well wishes about the job I interviewed for last week. I haven't heard about it yet, but I'm not feeling to great at this point. In fact, I'm feeling even more "unemployed." Which, if you're wondering, feels a bit like dirty sweatpants.

Sensing my growing distress, a friend recently sent me an e-mail with a list of easy-to-follow instructions for maintaining sanity during times of unemployment in not so ideal times. They are paraphrased below:

Step 1: Set the alarm to 9 a.m. - My grandmother got up at 9 a.m. when she was retired. I used genetics as an excuse.

Step 2: Take a shower as soon as you get up - I know, tough. But worth it, because you can do nothing the entire day and still feel like you accomplished something.

Step 3: Only allow yourself one TV show on Soap Net a day - Tough to choose between 90210 or the OC ... but again, necessary.

Step 4: Set one goal - Was it the shower? Great! To read the entire A section of the newspaper? Great! (Note: This was just to prove to my mother that I did something that day)

Step 5: Visit people - At least once a week. Catching up/meeting new people can feel like a new job; a nice 10-hour-a-week part-time job that mostly involves booze.

So in an effort to reclaim a sense of purpose, this morning I got up early (Step 1: check!), after my usual fitness class with my sister-in-law, I took a shower (Step 2: check!), and came back to da club to "get some work done" in my father-in-law's office (Step 4: check! check! check!).

At first, this was just because neither of the laptops at home have Microsoft Word and how am I supposed to "work" without Word? But after about five minutes of "working" I couldn't get the Word to work here either so I've spent the last hour reading blogs, chatting to people with jobs on Twitter, and smiling at people from behind the desk.

The reason "working" is in quotations is because I've pretty much reached the end of my rope of non-productivity. And even though I'm not really working, per say, it does a lot for the self esteem to call looking for jobs "working."

So when I got up this morning, I casually announced to the house that I would be going to the club "to get some work done," and it felt great. I think from now on, or at least until I find some gainful employment, everything that requires any effort at all will be referred to as "work."

Catching up on the New Yorker is now "catching up on some work." Looking at some blogs? "Looking at work." Putting on my pants? "Working really hard."

It's a new week, everyone. Let's get some clothes on and do some shit! Tweet