Housewivery and Recycling

I think maybe just chilling at home and getting all the household chores done could be my chosen profession.  I mean, I’ve really enjoyed the relaxing I’ve been able to do over the past three days.  I wake up with Wes, take him to work and then, depending on how I feel, I either come home to crawl back to bed for a couple of hours or go swimming.  

I’m trying the swimming part more often than not because if I don’t then I pretty much waste the day sleeping.  Nice every once in a while, but I can’t spend my free time asleep.  I mean, I can, but I shouldn’t.  Or at least, I should do something before I take a nap on the couch later in the afternoon.

Oh, I know, at some point this will all get old.  Well, the not earning money will get old.  I went shopping this afternoon and wanted to indulge and splurge on some fancy things, but then I remembered that I have no income.  And buying fancy dresses with my savings is not the smartest thing one could do.  So I refrained.  So, yeah, I’ve got all of this free time but I don’t have friends to spend it with, and I don’t want to blow through my savings in a month.  What I really need to do is find a job working from home.  I see people doing it and I want to know how.  How do you get a gig like that?  I mean, I’m searching Craigslist and I don’t see anything like that.  Well, not what I’m looking for anyway.  

So, instead I’ll continue to enjoy my time off.  I’ll try not to spend every day down by the pool because skin cancer is no good for anyone.  I’ll keep my shopping to a minimum and I’ll keep looking for a job.  

Oh, and figuring out Huntington Beach recycling.  This is the first place I’ve lived in California that does not offer recycling bins.  The first!  What is that all about.  They have some half-assed bottles and cans only, but there’s no place for cardboard, newspapers, etc., etc., etc.  I really don’t understand it.  I thought California was all about the recycling – making it easy so that you do it automatically instead of making excuses to not.

I mean, what is this, Idaho?

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