I'm still here. Only... very badly burned...

I'm still out of work. Going on six months now. It's been odd.

The kidlet is still in daycare. We left her there so as not to lose her place with a childcare provider who adores her. If we could have pulled her out with the certain knowledge that she'd be able to go back whenever I find a job, we would have done so. As it is, that's a mortgage payment that we spend each month while I sit at home.

This is guilt. My days are reading trashy books and, if I exert myself, getting around to see friends I don't otherwise see. About once a month, I go on an interview. I trawl the internet, following both goofy links and combing the same handful of job posting websites.

@ has suggested it's time to get a part-time job. The gravy train has stopped, and now we've reached the "let's dip into the emergency fund" portion of program. (This is not only a First World Problem, but a Solidly Middle Class Problem. Millions of unemployed US citizens should be so lucky as we.) Turns out that finding a part-time gig is about as easy as finding a full-time one. *sigh*

Amid all of this, I had a wonderful birthday last week. It was quiet and sans fanfare, with the exception of a very surprising number of people wishing me well on Facebook. (I thought I turned off the FB reminder, but something better than 10% of my Friends list stopped by to post a note. I felt loved. Sure, it takes a second, but it's a second more than I expected.)

We took the kidlet to the zoo since our membership expires at the end of the month. She loved it, as she always does. The carousel at the Brookfield Zoo is a particular hit. Five rides this weekend, though she refuses to sit on an animal. She will only ride the benches.

I woke up this morning a little earlier than I have been and had the chance to tell @ how much I love him. For all my whining about him, he's a generous, kind, thoughtful, funny man. I couldn't imagine a better father for my daughter, and I still don't know what he sees in me.