Back to work

I promised myself that when the twins started school, I would go back to work, and so I have, as of today. On a small scale, anyway: I'm editing an academic book for a friend. It's on an interesting topic and there's lots of good work done already... but also lots that needs to be done. A project I can really sink my teeth into. So I'm pleased, and I look forward to "going to work" tomorrow.

In honor of starting work today, I cleared off my desk in our bedroom.

Doesn't that look divinely retro? Old desk, old chair, old curtains (made by Rocket Boy's mom, at least 30 years ago, more likely 40 or 50). Even a boombox, to pull us into the 70s. But where is the computer?

Here. On the disastrously messy desk in the office I share with Rocket Boy. I find it hard to get any serious work done in here, though. I know, I could unplug the laptop from everything and drag it into the other room, but then I wouldn't have any room on my nice desk to spread paperwork out. OK, OK, I could get rid of the boombox, but then how could I listen to tapes?

Anyway, it is very pleasant to be working again. Also, it is necessary, because we have spent pretty much all our money and will soon be in serious financial trouble. No matter what I do to reduce our costs, dreadful bills keep appearing out of nowhere, and very little money is coming in to pay those bills. I am still waiting to be paid for my story in this anthology:

It was nice of them to send me all these copies, but I would rather have the $200 they promised. It's supposed to arrive within 30 days of publication, so they still have a week or two. I'm not sure the book is doing very well, though. Our local grocery store carries it, and I study the stack of copies every time I'm in the store. It does not appear as though any have sold. (Still, I confess to a tiny thrill every time I see the stack. I want to nudge other customers and say, "See that book? I have a story in there.")

For a while I thought I was going to get rich selling these folks stories (this is the second book my writing has appeared in), but the last few I submitted were not chosen, so now I'm losing faith. And trying to think of other ways to make ends meet. I could still sign up for temp work, and probably will when my editing job ends. I'm applying for every government job that looks halfway possible. Maybe someone will think my resume looks interesting. Rocket Boy is frantically looking as well, applying for everything, writing proposals, signing up to do tutoring.

My story in the book pictured above is about how I turned a so-so job into a great one. Of course, to make that sort of lemonade, you first have to have a lemon. It's really hard to find a lemon these days.

And each weekday the twins march happily off to school, for the most part quite unaware of our situation. It's interesting: you'd think I'd feel worse having the burden of small children to provide for, but I think it actually makes me more determined.

It's hard not to look across the street and remember the wonderful job I used to have, before I moved to the desert for Rocket Boy's job. But that way lies madness. Trying not to dwell on it too much, trying to focus on what we have now.