It is one of those fun things about today's economy is that when dealing with recruiters/potential employers, they have to go through the rigamorale of letting each applicant know that there might be issues/items about the job that might be of concern to the applicant despite the fact that at this point, those of us who have been unemployed for awhile are pretty much willing to do anything if the pay is decent and does not involve having to wear any sort of apron. What I mean is that my recruiters will often preface a possible job with a "well, this job is in Bakersfield, they can only pay you in magic beans and you have to fight all the other applicants in gladiator style combat to get this job so is that okay by you?" And I, of course, have to say "sure, if I get up at 3 in the morning, I could make it to Bakersfield by 8, magic beans can turn into bean stalks, and I love gladiator flicks so let's go for it!"

And speaking of not working, I have not only gone past the sweatpants phase of unemployment but gone into the pajamas phase. For most of the week, I go through life in either a t-shirt, sweatshirt, shorts ensemble or a tshirt/sweatshirt/pajama bottom ensemble. Lately, on those few occasions when I do go out, I have a strange desire to actually dress slightly up because in some ways, I miss having to dress up somewhat nicely. Or shall I say I miss the fact that I have a reason to dress up somewhat nicely. So lately, when I have been going out, I've been wearing non-jeans pants and stylish sneakers. All of which means that I actually dressed somewhat nicely when I saw the doctor today.

There's another odd thing that happens when I go out, especially during the day, in that I see people who actually have jobs and I'm kind of amazed by it. It seems rather odd to me because between my adventures, adventures of other people I know, and all the news stories, I'm often surprised that some people still have jobs and live rather normal, mundane lives where they leave the house during the day and make money. I wrote earlier how this economic cluster fuck feels like the plague and walking downtown in the morning or afternoon has that feeling of walking amongst survivors of some awful catastrophe. Oh, to be an office drone and spend eight hours in a cubicle, bitching about your boss and your bosses boss.