It's almost July. We've been living in this God awful place for two months. David is never home, I don't have a job, we don't have any friends, and I'm no longer pregnant. I start my job search in earnest. Immediately, I get an offer with the American Cancer Society to procure auction items for their Gala. How can this be a full time, year long position? I am sure I would go nuts doing this job, and I'm getting interviews elsewhere for other more exciting and challenging things, so I turn them down. This decision turns out to be a mistake of gargantuan proportions that I regret to this day. Don't get me wrong, the job would be miserable, but it turns out I won't receive another job offer for 3 months.
Soon I will go to Lake Chelan to spend the week with my family. My mom has organized a BBQ for all of our childhood friends, now grown up, and their families to meet my nephew. It seems everyone has babies. I feel a hole inside me that not even alcohol can fix.
I change our address on our bills and begin to get our life set up in Portland. I am on the phone with the credit card company, reciting our now memorized new address, and he is asking fill-in-the-blank questions about the move. Is this a permanent move? Yes. Do you own or rent? Rent. What is your husband's profession? Construction manager. What is your profession? I tell him that I'm unemployed. He asks, stay at home mom? No, I say, we just moved and I had to quit my job and haven't found a new job yet. I'm uncomfortable, so I'm giving him too much information. Shall I just check 'housewife', he asks? Oh my god. I'm a housewife.
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