I love lists. I feel productive making lists, and I feel good when I get to check things off. Consequently, my lists tend to have a lot of detail to them. For example, "pack rolls of TP" was one item on my list (hey, you don't appreciate it until you're in some third world bathroom without it). The list also constantly grows. My to-do list currently stands at 31 items, but I managed to accomplish 16 of them between yesterday and today. Of the nine things I had listed to buy, I polished off 5 of them. I will keep plugging away over the next few hours; I'm pretty sure I can get rid of a few more. (By the way, thank you for the encouragement!)
Needless to say, this did not lead to the most exciting Sunday. I baked mini-pies as a break, using the premade pie dough from Pillsbury. They were pretty tasty. I also spent some time looking for a new job. I live within commuting distance from 4 different cities, and didn't find ANYTHING that got me excited. I guess I just need to start applying for stuff, and see if it looks/feels/sounds better if I get an interview. That was true of my current position--it got infinitely more enticing during the interview. Still, it kills me to see some of the benefits. One job offers only 4 weeks paid maternity leave. Now, I know this is better than nothing, but with my current job, I would get 12 weeks paid, and I could take even more off unpaid. With short term disability insurance, that could equal a hefty amount of time off.
I can't stay another year, though. I really can't. And that would even assume I'd get PG in the next couple of months, and who knows.
This is hard.
I also concluded that Terrific T. and I have to mend our evil ways when we return from vacation. While trying to find stuff like our snorkeling gear, money belts, and a Swiss Army knife, I concluded that we have a serious pack rat problem in this house. There is STUFF EVERYWHERE! We have boxes in the garage, boxes in the basement, boxes in the attic-y storage space off the rooms on the second floor, stuffed drawers, overflowing piles of mail, etc. I have no idea what any of this stuff is, and therefore don't need it. There is no organization system in this house whatsoever. You might find brand new underwear--still in the package--in a box with a hammer and amidst other tools in the garage; a headlamp piled with DVD's next to the television in the living room; premoistened lemon scented facecloths. . .wait, what? Why the hell do I have lemon-scented premoistened faceclothes? Oh, lord knows why, but I do. They come four to a pack, and I have two--TWO!--sets. Ultimately, I also found one set of snorkeling gear hanging in the basement, and the other stuffed under the eaves off our bedroom. The money belts (brand new) were in a box in the garage. The Swiss Army knife was in my husband's golf bag. I won't even get into the treasure hunt that preceded the discovery of all of these items, and more.
It might be easier just to move when we get back.