Two posts in one week. That’s how exciting life is in the
sticks.
There was not much enthusiasm to go back to work at my second job after being away on leave. Upon discovering one of my new colleagues was difficult to get along with I was even less interested. I spent my lunch break googling other ways to have a second income that fits my skill set and energy levels. There wasn’t a great deal out there, not in Katherine and not without reliable internet.
When I did get to work on the second night the chef noticed I looked like crap. Without even realising, my face was speaking without my jaw flapping. Less than an hour later a migraine was in full swing. Before leaving I noticed I was rostered on for two nights the next weekend. What happened to my specified “No Weekends”?
When I got home I was keen to just get to bed and get some sleep. During the day there must have been a big gust of wind that had ripped the tarp down (again), blew some things around and shut the caravan door. I opened the door and out rushed one very excited and desperate for the loo dog. She came out so quickly her chain got caught and yanked on the bottom of the door and next minute, there it is, swinging off one lonely, bent hinge. I stared at it. My shitty caravan was even more shitty thanks to the dog getting trapped inside. And then there’s that horrible moment, that epiphany, that I might be sick of working two jobs but my less-than-comfortable life was made even slightly less comfortable and quitting would mean I’d have to wait over two years before I can build a house rather than just one.
Tonight’s activities are obviously going to involve rehanging the door. It didn’t bother me that I couldn’t run the generator for the air con last night, I was too tired to care. What did bother me was Kip’s singular barks to indicate how pissed off she was about having to sleep outside. Too bad dog, such is life.
There was not much enthusiasm to go back to work at my second job after being away on leave. Upon discovering one of my new colleagues was difficult to get along with I was even less interested. I spent my lunch break googling other ways to have a second income that fits my skill set and energy levels. There wasn’t a great deal out there, not in Katherine and not without reliable internet.
When I did get to work on the second night the chef noticed I looked like crap. Without even realising, my face was speaking without my jaw flapping. Less than an hour later a migraine was in full swing. Before leaving I noticed I was rostered on for two nights the next weekend. What happened to my specified “No Weekends”?
When I got home I was keen to just get to bed and get some sleep. During the day there must have been a big gust of wind that had ripped the tarp down (again), blew some things around and shut the caravan door. I opened the door and out rushed one very excited and desperate for the loo dog. She came out so quickly her chain got caught and yanked on the bottom of the door and next minute, there it is, swinging off one lonely, bent hinge. I stared at it. My shitty caravan was even more shitty thanks to the dog getting trapped inside. And then there’s that horrible moment, that epiphany, that I might be sick of working two jobs but my less-than-comfortable life was made even slightly less comfortable and quitting would mean I’d have to wait over two years before I can build a house rather than just one.
Tonight’s activities are obviously going to involve rehanging the door. It didn’t bother me that I couldn’t run the generator for the air con last night, I was too tired to care. What did bother me was Kip’s singular barks to indicate how pissed off she was about having to sleep outside. Too bad dog, such is life.
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