I need a job. I've been mooching off my parents since my wife died, and it's time. I'm going to pick myself up by my bootstraps and face the reality of my student loans. I've been hiding from them for months. But that's one aspect of my life that remained unchanged when my wife died. She'll never need to apply for an apartment or can loan again, that lucky so-and-so.
Forget diamonds, debt is forever. The only time debt was ever funny to me is when my wife got mail asking for bills to be paid six months after she died. Hilarious. So I need a job. I even have an interview already lined up, I'm ready for this, I'm pumped. I'm going to put my nose to the grindstone and punch that clock and other hard-workin' cliches.
Oh, by the way, I'm still going to be living with my parents. I'm only looking for part-time, just enough to get the loan-monkey off my back. I'm not happy about it either, but I need to do it. Because grief. One more thing, can I just say again how fucked up life is that I'm bitching about student loans on my widower blog?
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