Monday Morning

Monday morning. The beginning of the work week. I don't have a job. Except, that is, for looking for a job. 

Actually, I do have several jobs. I do the cooking, the yard work, everything about taking care of the dogs except feeding them. Maureen feeds the dogs: Annie, the 14-year-old Pembroke Welsh Corgi, who we inherited eight years ago after Maureen's sister Kathleen died too young; and Merlin, aka Yatta vom Nadelhaus, my 3-year-old crazy German-bred German Shepherd Dog. Maureen also does laundry, endless laundry, to which I contribute the grungiest clothes from working in the back yard. I also do odd jobs and fix-it projects at home.

Immensely satisfying as all of that is, as you know, it brings no income (for vacations and home maintenance, to name two expenditures). I also find that I crave contributing something to society. I've always been funny that way. First, the U.S. Air Force after having gone through four years of Reserve Officer Training Corps in college at Colorado State University, graduating with a bachelor's in Cultural Anthropology. A brief stint with the American Red Cross in the Berkeley/West Contra Costa County (Calif.) Chapter. Then 23 years working at the Cal/EPA Department of Toxic Substances Control. Most of those years were exciting and challenging and fun. The last few not so much as I floundered in the toxic cultural soup that I had tried so hard to stave off.

Okay. That's all out of my system. Normally, I have enough time in the morning to job hunt - reading the email feeds I get from indeed.com, among others, scanning Craigslist and, occasionally, sending out a resume. Not this morning, though. We're off to take Annie to her vet ophthalmologist (!) who will, hopefully, tell us that her cornea ulcer is all clear and there's no more need for me to put two different ointments in her eye three times a day, performing in my Dr. Northrup persona.