I have an interview tomorrow, for a position captioning and revoicing telephone calls for deaf and hard of hearing people tomorrow.
Melissa used to work there, so she helped me with the revoicing part. You have to repeat what a person is saying while they’re saying it, which is surprisingly difficult to do after being trained not to speak while another person is speaking.
I’m hopeful, and the pay is good.
Otherwise things are good with me and Melissa.
We were both lonely and stressed out, she’s stuck out in Milwaukee without her family and boyfriend, just lost her job, so she’s happy for the help and companionship.
I’m happy living with her and her son (almost two). I guess I’m more cut out for this domestic stuff than I thought. Been doing a lot of cleaning (it never ends with a toddler), and some cooking, but Melissa mostly cooks. My attempts aren’t bad, though.
Starting to feel like I missed my calling as a housewife, though.
Her son is adorable and I love playing and reading with him. Kids are so refreshing after dealing with see pretty terrible adults. She tells me how good I am with kids, and says I should go back to school to become a daycare provider. I’m almost warming to the idea of working with kids in some fashion.
Honestly, after dealing with adults with alcohol/drug problems, the behavior of an agitated toddler is surprising harmless, if not wearing on the nerves at times.
Zayden has this new habit of waking up, and screaming and pounding on his door until he’s let out. It’s not terrible in itself, but when I let him out, he then goes to his mom’s bedroom door and pounds.
Giving him milk helps, turning on the TV, and I should get more comfortable with changing his diaper.
We had someone over to drink last night, he got too opinionated and upset my friend, and fondled me, so that was kind of a bummer.
We we’re cooking dinner, she wanted him to leave, and he stayed until the food was done, which I packed up for him.
In between waving a towel at the fire alarm, because I was drunk and got chicken grease in the burners.
Kinda liked the old guy, minus the inappropriate touching and the over opinionated part…think he said I had “been around the block” once or twice more than I’d like, but we agreed on some other things.
We’ve pretty much been sequestered in the apartment for weeks, don’t think I’ve seen this much tv in my life, honestly. We’re regulars at Walgreens, have daily interactions and relationships with the cashiers.
We’re also like two of the few white people in this neighborhood. That’s a new living situation for me, and I thought I’d be more uncomfortable or feel weird about it, but everyone (sans creepy guys, but you get that everywhere) has been super nice and polite.
This is probably the largest and most urban city I’ve lived in, and I can’t get over how polite everyone is. It makes me profoundly happy.
Also, my neighborhood is about 90 percent black, and my dreams have now adjusted to this. Haha, I don’t know if that’s weird to say, but I’ve generally lived in mostly white/more mixed areas, and people in my dreams reflected that. Now most of the people in my dreams are black.