The one today was for a person to take home pictures over a three county area. I fit all the qualifications, could take the munchkin with me cause he loves the car and it's an on call position. The way our situation is right now, it'd be nice to have the extra money, but we don't have to have it (thank you God). Perfect job on all fronts, I meet all of the requirements to a tee. I even know where I'm going in that area, so no 'lost in the strip mall' syndrome. But... it's in California. I'm in Texas.
And this is just the latest one that's hit me in the face over the last three weeks from this newsletter. I was so irked by the first two that I just deleted them. This is by far, the most perfect one, but the other two would have suited me quite well. I probably could have handled this one and one of the other ones in tandem and been just dandy. But... I'm in Texas.
I don't know why, after almost three years in Houston~ish, I'm now getting hit with all this Northern California stuff... as in: If you were in Northern California, you could have this going on! You'd think that a dash of homesickness would have hit me when I first got here, not now. Not almost three years later, when things are going fairly well for us. We even looked at new trailers this weekend. You can pray for us, cause we can't afford a single-solitary one yet, but even being several months off, we wanted to look.
And looking was fantastic. They actually have brand new ones in our price range that I could see us living in. Of course, me... the dreamer, the optimistic just-in-case-I-wanna-look-at-the-Gucci-one-just-to-see-it woman that I am, feel head-over-heels in love with the one that's more than twice what we want to spend. Then again, you can't blame me; the master bathroom was a religious experience. And it was a 4 bedroom with hardwood floors and double-sided glass cabinets in the kitchen with over 2300 sq feet of living space (reminder: we're in less than 600 sq ft now). And they're turning over their inventory, so it was reduced and they offered to throw in the furniture. They had three other ones that are only a smidgen over our original want-to-spend, and I'd be happy with any of them.
But, when I pray about it, I always ask God for the Gucci one, because it's like the Robin Williams comedy routine he does about the invention of golf. Say this in a very thick Scottish brogue ~ a la Mrs. Doutfire, "... and a the end, we'll put a flag on a stick... to give ya fuckin' hope..."
That Gucci trailer gave me "fuckin' hope" which, with my previously discussed bad attitude, I needed desperately. So, yeah, I'm still kinda irked about the Norcal jobs coming up, and I may never again see the inside of that Gucci trailer, but I have seen the flag on the stick, and I'm (we're) going to be OK... or amazingly-fantastically-wonderful even.