Just Kind of an Irate Circle

We're living in an apartment. I hate living in an apartment. It's not a bad apartment, but it still IS AN APARTMENT. As in, NOT A HOUSE. There are benefits to living in apartments that are not houses; such as not having to do maintenance when things go bump and bang and fall apart in the night (tenants not included). Easy access to such amenities as exercise equipment, swimming pools, movie stars (but the movie stars are only at certain California locations). So, why do I hate living in an apartment, if it's so all-fired-up orgasmically wonderful, then?

Because, in case I haven't mentioned yet, it's NOT A HOUSE. And, being not a house, we have no backyard, and no where to boot the kids safely when they are getting uppity. There is also no place to plant flowers, vegetables, dead frogs, etc. What we have is a small square 'patio' that can fit a BBQ grill and 2 chairs. No people, because the chairs are taking up all the space.

My biggest gripe in this whole not a house situation is the toilet in the kid's bathroom. It looks, and for all practical purposes, works like a normal toilet should. And if you happen to be a family of ground squirrels, and have ground squirrel-sized ... pooh, it works great. However, if you may have noticed, we are not ground squirrels, nor is our ... pooh. What this means, is at least once a week, I'm forced to unclog our not-for-ground-squirrel toilet when anyone tries to flush anything larger than a mini-marshmallow. This usually is done while screeching down the hall at the interloper to get his/her butt back in here and wash his/her hands and for chrissakes put the damn towel back on the rack this time, what, were you raised by ground squirrels?!?

But, I digress. I had a job, and we were planning on using the money I made from this job to help in getting a house. HAH! After the daycare cost, we could afford a house ... one of those spiffy cardboard ones found on the corner down the street from the local homeless shelter. This is not to say that we are bad off, UH has a good job, and keeps us fed and with a roof over our head, and can even keep the ground squirrels at bay. But, on the getting a house front, let me reiterate my point: HAH!

So, there it is. If we want a house, I need a job. This is where I start to have a problem. I am trained in customer service. I can do a whole lot of a helluva more than this, but this is where the majority of my experience (at least the experience I'll willingly admit to on a resume) lies. What this means is, I have to don an apron/uniform/nametag and work behind a counter or a tray, or be chained to a phone 8 hours a day. Since both of these options make a Clorox cocktail with a Drano chaser look enormously appealing, I have to look into other options.

Like going back to school. But for what? Anyone paying a modicum of attention knows that I don't have the best history with school. I tend to start something, get distracted by something shiny, and another year is down the drain. Now that I'm bumping up on 35, I don't have this luxury anymore, because I have a family that needs me, and I could be dead soon. It's best to attain at least one degree before that happens, it makes the graduation ceremony go much smoother.

So, here I am. Stuck between a clogged toilet and a hard place like home.