Never would have guessed a can of ravioli would make me want to quit my job, but that’s sort of what took place this evening.
Before I go any further, I want to make one thing clear: I’m not quitting my job. I love it, really, and know full well I’d regret such a decision. But listen.
As I unloaded some groceries into the cupboards after Kalista went to sleep, I noticed an awful lot of shit. Shit that’s been in there for a while. Shit that’s probably never going to be used.
Several cans of ravioli and other Chef-Boyardee-type products caught my eye as repeat offenders I’d noticed before. Lunch food. Food Kalista will probably never eat because she’s away at lunch time during the week, and we typically eat out on the weekends.
Other foods met in the cupboard met this criteria. Things I bought a while back – probably close to a year ago – that aren’t suitable for dinner or breakfast.
Oh to be a stay-at-home parent. I’d love to feed her four meals a day.
Now, I know through stories I’ve written about the topic that basically the Department of Social Services is set up like this: if you are employed, regardless of your income, you’re not eligible for much help through the county or state.
That all changes if you earn less than $400 per month, though. Then you’re practically living the high life on other people’s dime.
It’s a possibility I have kicked around on my darkest of days but ended up disregarding because, like I said, I love what I do.
However, I’m well aware that someday Kalista’s going to walk down the aisle (of doom, according to me) and I’ll be thinking of her as a 3-year-old. Just wish I could hold onto these moments, I guess, and quitting my job and living off public assistance would afford me the opportunity.
Still not saying I’m going to do it.