Shut up, Alanis

Sunday morning the clinic called to see if I'd be able to come in the next day for a 2-hour spa package. As luck would have it, I had the day off work (thank you, Mr. Presidents) and was therefore able to make some extra money early yesterday morning. The woman was so happy with the session she plans to come back one Monday a month, to start the week off right. I hope whichever massage therapist ends up with her as a regular thanks me, at least. Because I'll be here, at the office, not massaging. But I swear I get just as much joy out of spreadsheets and approvals-in-triplicate. I swear.

(I'm swearing right now in fact- can't you hear me?)

Sunday evening I received a call about a chair massage job. For a few hours on each of the next four Saturdays, I'll be earning a decent amount of money from what appears to be a fairly easy gig. I couldn't bring myself to commit to the weekends beyond these upcoming four, as Saturday is technically my ONE DAY OFF and a girl needs her down time. If I didn't have a full-time job already, I would have committed to the next two months and laughed all the way to the bank.

(Has anyone ever seen someone laughing all the way to the bank? I've never heard of this actually happening in real life. Or maybe it happens all the time and we just mistake jolly old kings of fortune for crazies.)

(Excuse me, I mean "the mentally ill.")

Yesterday after my spa appointment, the owner offered me a massage therapy job on the spot. For Saturdays. Which won't work, even if it weren't my ONE DAY OFF, since (in case you skipped a paragraph) I've just committed to this chair massage job.

Last night one of my classmates asked me if I'd be interested in sharing an office in Dallas with him, which would not only give me a great location for my (potential) clientele, but would save us both a lot of money. Obviously, when you're just starting out it's hard to swing a monthly rent payment in the nicer Dallas areas. Unfortunately, when your credit card balance is bigger than your mortgage payment, and you've just spent a good chunk of change on car repairs and vet bills and a massage chair and besides, if-we're-going-to-commit-to-a-monthly-payment-it'll-be-for-a-new-car-for-pete's-sake, renting a massage therapy office cannot be a priority at the moment. Toiling away at your salaried position with paid time-off remains the Responsible Thing To Do. Sometimes I hate being a Grown-up.

It just figures, doesn't it? What's funny* is that in six months I'll be sitting around, twiddling my thumbs and wondering where all the clients, affordable office space and job offers are. And panicking. And possibly stocking up on Ramen** for the first time in my life.

*Actually, that's not so much "funny" as it is "incredibly distressing."

**Although I've heard that urban legend of the dehyrdrated mouse carcass found in someone's carton of Ramen, so maybe not.

3 comment:

Blogger Becky said...

Since buying The New House, we have to eat nothin' but generic mac-n-cheez (can't even afford to spell it right) and hot dogs. Yea. YUM.

My kids will be disappointed to hear about a mouse in their Brain Noodles... since Ramen has been a staple in their diet for years.

11:17 AM  
Anonymous skyhawk said...

...And we're mad at Ms. Morrisette, why?

It sounds like you're approaching a decision similar to the one I faced in October 2005 -- "Should I leave a steady paycheck and benefits behind, to pursue my dream... shaky as it may seem?"

I haven't looked back... then again, I also had the added impetus of having to work with your hubby anymore.

10:00 PM  
Blogger Kelley said...

Yeah, seriously "I'm broke but I'm happy"? So says the multimillionaire recording artist.

I went through a phase in college where I ate the Ramen noodles uncooked. The idea now makes me ill. Apparently, poverty makes anything palatable.

10:27 AM  

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