Worried about work. Meant to work on my stories during this long and luxurious weekend, but I didn’t bother — one is a touchy-feely piece, and the other is an obituary — they now instruct me to write one obituary per issue, as if I give a shit about the dear departed person — why don’t we let sleeping dogs lie and instead write more about the living legends? Bleah.

Another small stressor is the fact that my interview for my job is tomorrow. I’m not worried about it, by any means, but I am annoyed at the prospect of it being a big fat waste of time. Demure drags things on forever — I hope she either reschedules or is speedy about it so that I can move on to other things (like, oh, I don’t know, DOING the job I’m interviewing for!).

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my finances. I decided that if I can just earn an extra $1,500 per month, I will survive well. I don’t need to be filthy rich — I just need to be able to afford my current expenses and budget for emergencies. That’s an extra $50 per day … how hard can it be to figure out how to make that? (P.S. Giving BJs to strangers does not factor into my mind as a plausible way to earn this extra income, BTW, so don’t suggest it! lol)

If I indeed got the holy grail of a promotion at work, then I’d only need to make maybe an extra $20 or $25 per day. This is even more easily achievable than the previous scenario.

I despise being awake because of worries over work and money. Well, that, and my lower back hurts from my snow-shoveling-with-a-flowerpot, so I’m just a mess in general. 😉

I awoke super-early Tuesday morning, too, so you’d think I’d be tired. I was having a horrible dream about being pregnant (and wondering about this immaculate conception) and being in a bar with the Beltway Bloggers. I was pissed because I couldn’t drink (and, I was probably upset with the politics, too, as a liberal lost among libertarians. heh), and the dream kept getting more intense. I awoke in a panic and remained that way for several hours.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have made myself two mocha lattes before I attempted to go to bed a few hours ago. ::sigh:: The cat’s unconscious, not fretting about a single thing — Damn it, I want to be her in my next life!

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