18 April 2008

That's it? Not even a "Congratulations?"

Last week when I made my unemployment benefits request, I noticed that there was an a question asking if I'd returned to work full-time. This popped up because I had to report working a whopping 16 hours the previous week. I knew this week that I wouldn't have to file because I was back full-time and didn't need the dole any longer.

However, being the statistics and public policy geek that I am, instead of just not requesting benefits, I went through the whole thing so I could report that I had gone back to work full-time. I wanted to make sure I was counted, you know? Yes, I'm a total fucking nerd, but I have used that data in my work and God dammit, if I have a chance to make an impact on it, I'm going to do it. I thought perhaps once I indicated I had re-entered the workforce I'd get some sort of acknowledgement for it or something. Wishful thinking, I know. What I got was some sort of message saying there was a problem or I'd made a mistake. What the fuck ever.

It's a good fucking thing I'm working, too. Holy shit. I spent $42 putting gas in my car and $32 on ONE MONTH of birth control pills. I vaguely remember them being expensive when I was in college (didn't report them to the 'rents insurance), but I can't remember the last time I paid more than $15 for three months. Shit. For the last year they were free. Still, though, it's a small price to pay to keep my womb free of intruders. I'm terrified to see how much my Advair is going to cost under this stop-gap insurance. My guess is somewhere in the neighborhood of the actual cost of the insurance. But again, I have to breathe, so what's a girl to do?

I'm starting to think work is bad for me. And not just because it is the end of my second full week and I have a bag full of work that I brought home with me. I'm talking like, physically bad for me. I got sick after my first day (still blaming that one on The Boy I Currently Like, though) and I thought I was better at the beginning of the week. That was either a cruel joke or my allergies have kicked in. Except they are far worse at the office than at home or anywhere else.

Wearing dress shoes is fucking up my feet, which is in turn fucking up my knees, because they are hurting the entire time I'm on the treadmill and elliptical machine and continue hurting after. Lower back pain around my herniated disc? Check. Probably from sitting in a desk chair. Sore right hand? Check. I'm thinking it's from using a mouse constantly after not using one at all for two months. Stiff neck and shoulders? Check and check, motherfuckers. That's where I carry all my tension. I'm sure the tension headaches are just around the corner. That thing under my right shoulder? Still there.

Good God. I sound like (and feel like, quite frankly) an old woman. I have barely been home from the gym for an hour and I'm ready for bed. Ooooh, hooray Friday! Clearly I was not meant to work at a desk. Or wear shoes that are not Chuck Taylors. But I have to be able to buy booze and birth control pills, so I must work. Someday I will find that perfect job, though. I know it!

3 comments:

I'm Frank said...

Work is bad for me as well. Pretty much anything that makes me get out of bed and put on pants is bad news in my book.

Muffy Willowbrook said...

Keep at it, Jess. You'll find something that blends well with your lifestyle AND your physical well being. If only you got paid to blog....

Jess said...

If I got paid to blog, I wouldn't have to wear pants! It would be perfect.

Thank goodness for Saturday Happy Hours. I'm much happier when I'm drunk.