Ahh, Unstructured Time

I used to think I handled my time well, but not this time around. Yesterday my big accomplishment was sorting through the mountain of clean laundry and matching up all the socks. That and buying Beth a new mouse to replace the one that died.

Then I saw my job advertised in our local weekly, about 5 inches of classified liner ad, ending with "Training & Support provided." My, my, they must've changed something since I left.

It looks like I will go back to one of my previous gigs -- doing respite care for Mike, one of my favorite kids. (If this post goes right, there'll be a picture of him in it, taken just before I left for the full-time debacle.)



He's a fun and interesting kid -- hears perfectly but talks like a deaf person, has extra sensitivity in his hands, feet and head, so cutting hair and nails is cause for screaming fits. Thus the long-ish hair. He uses some sign language and I do a running translation to make sure i've got his meaning. As a respite worker I'm not allowed to transport him in my car, so we spend our time together walking to the playground or the ice cream store or just walking the alleys so he can indulge his fascination with cars and trucks and heavy equipment. On rainy days he turns over the two living room swivel chairs and we go for long "truck rides."

Too bad the fun factor doesn't correlate positively with the pay -- in fact it's the opposite: The more fun the job, the less you make.