Pity Party

I got the job I interviewed for. I walked in, the guy said I had the job, we talked, I filled out a quick questionnaire, said yes to the job, and walked out.


The pity party starts now. No need to RSVP, this is a party of one.


By getting the job, I had to kiss my vacation/time alone with my Love good-bye. He goes to Texas where there is warm weather and sunshine (I know, I know, he's also got classes to attend) and I'm stuck in my living room in an empty house. Except for the bird.

I've been trying to fill out the paperwork for this job, but one of the things I have to do is get a Chauffer's license so that I can drive the kids around. Problem: I still have only my WI driver's license. Meaning, in order to actually get this job, I have to get an Iowa license. Now, this wouldn't normally be a big deal, but I've got NOTHING that says I'd be a resident. I'm not on the utility bills, I don't get paper statements from my bank, we didn't actually sign a lease, I don't have kids to enroll in school and use the enrollment papers as proof... So, aside from the fact that I don't have a way to PROVE I moved to Iowa, I also don't have proof I've lived here for 30 days or more.

So how's this for frustrating circular reasoning? One way I can get an Iowa license is if I prove I've got a permanent job. Easy right? I'm doing this FOR the job. WRONG! I can't sign the papers that say I've got a job until I can get an Iowa license. Grrr.

So last night as I was pouting my face off wallowing in my loneliness, I figured I'd buy myself a pie. That's right. You read that correctly. A WHOLE damn pie. I thought I was going to indulge in it, bathe in it, and stuff my face with silky, chocolatey, velvety French Silk pie all night long. I grabbed my fork. Not just any fork, but one of those really sturdy ones. You know, one of those hefty forks built for devouring a whole pie? One of those. I tore open the package and unearthed my pie. I jabbed my big old fork into it and took a HUGE bite of chocolate and whipped cream.

And I could have cried. The pie tasted like crap. Not like a stale, past the expiration date crap, but more of a too-processed-to-taste-enjoyable crap.

Then to remedy the pie fiasco from last night, I worked really hard this morning to figure out ways to sweet talk the DMV attendant. I put everything that could possibly help me in a folder and hopped in the car, drove to the OPPOSITE side of town, only to to find out that the DMV isn't open on Mondays. Grrr.

I decided that I can kind of count today as a productive day because I got everything ready for the DMV, even if I didn't get anything actually accomplished. So, since I was next door to Hyvee, I went in to fix this pie fiasco. Instead of buying a whole second pie though, I just went for one of those slices from the bakery. I figured, that I'd be more lenient on my tastebuds and accept that if I didn't like it, at least I didn't waste a lot of money on it. Then my stomach rumbled and I passed by the Chinese food counter. I sprung for it. It smelled so good.

I drove all the way home, checked the mail, turned on The Golden Girls, and cracked into my lunch. The pie tasted like the one from last night and aside from being cold, the Chinese food was basically flavorless. Two whole packets of soy sauce couldn't add anything to the rice.

So that's my party chock full 'o pity. Happy St. Paddy's to you too.