The bookstore downtown had a help wanted sign in the window. I walked in, and found out that they were looking for someone to work nights and weekends. That's when I work at Kristina's. I thanked her, and walked out.

I don't think D. really understood. "You've always wanted to work in a bookstore. Why didn't you take it?" Well, because I'm making significantly more at Kristina's. I don't think we could afford a $3-5/hour pay cut. It sucks, but that's what being a grownup is all about. But damn, I wish she was looking for someone to work mornings...

In four years, the car will be paid off. In six years, my brain will be paid off. I keep trying to convince myself that it's ok, someday I really can take a lower paying job that will make me happy. Someday.

It's ironic. I thought I was avoiding the whole trapped-by-high-income issue. It's a given that the more you make, the more you spend. Everyone is in debt. Apparently, I didn't set my sights low enough.

Feh.

previous--next