Hey Mr. Postman

Today is my tenth day of unemployment. And I’ve discovered a few things…

I can eat cake for lunch, and if I get tired I can take a nap. An afternoon nap. Oh-my-gawd. This is heaven.

I can wear yoga pants. I mean, I can LIVE in yoga pants. L.O.V.E. And I haven’t worn an underwire bra in over a week. I’ve only worn pajamas, sweats/yoga pants, or workout/running clothes. Bonus: I’ve only worn jeans once. This really IS bliss.

In the past ten days, I have only had to don make-up twice, so my skin looks awesome. My thing, has always been my skin. Everybody has their one body thing. So this is good.

I’ve knitted one and a half scarves. But I plan to knit a lot more. In fact, I plan to build a yarn empire on Etsy. Yes, I’m THAT good. I just have to learn to knit hats. And I’m sure I can find a UTube video for that… and watch it on the big TV, via Apple TV. (because right now I can only knit things with corners and to build a yarn empire, I probably need to branch out a little bit)


I can run during the warmest part of the day, and in the daylight, so cars can see me. Plus. Plus.

I’ve caught up on a lot of old television series; shows I’ve always wanted to see, like BBC’s Sherlock, but I never had the time to watch. I’m knee-deep in the second season of Fringe right now, and I’m seriously considering doomsday prepping. Pssht. Not really. But that show is uber intense.

And anyone can stop by my house unannounced these days; Y’all come on over! My teenager’s bathroom (aka the common-guest bathroom) doesn’t look like a we’ve used it to bathe three monkeys, it’s clean. Unvelieveably pube-free. A freaking Christmas-miracle. And my bed is made. Throughout the entire house, the floors are clean (no small feat, since we have two mini-dachshunds; one who thinks she is a dragon-slayer, and all hard floors). Everything is clean. Clean. CLEAN. I love a clean house. So feel free to stop by… I don’t have dust bunnies the size of well, bunnies. Extreme P.L.U.S.

I have lots of time to read too. I’ve read all of the real junk mail, even the Acura Owner’s magazine delivered by the postman. And after eight years I even learned our postman’s name. It’s Dwight. Ha! For all of you Office fans: I have a Dwight bobble head staring at me now as I write this, and I can’t help but want to put a little postal workers hat on him. And of course, I over-shared this morsel of information with Dwight-the-postman (the part about my Dwight bobble head, not the part about wanting to dress it up), because I don’t get out much these days. (I’m working on that)


Of course now, our postman thinks I’m crazy. And that’s it for our mail… So no bills. Yay.

And did you know you can start entering HGTV’s Dream Home contest for 2014, already? Well you can. I almost missed entering that contest because the announcement email went to my junk folder. But now I have time to read my junk email too. Super yay!

And I can wear the same pajamas for two days. Okay. So I’m still working on this one. 

But what I’ve really figured out is how you can turn any negative into positive, when you decide not to have a negative thought.


One comment on “Hey Mr. Postman

  1. bensbitterblog
    January 2, 2014 at January 2, 2014 #

    It sounds like you get too much accomplished while you are at home. If I was unemployed I would be way less useful. It’s probably good that I have a job or I would be a complete waste of society.

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