Cover letters and other lies

I have applied for at least twenty jobs in the last couple of weeks. My neighbor is a writer and he asked me yesterday if I was doing any writing. I told him only if cover letters count, and they should--they drain my creative juices in a big way. (They make me feel cheap and dirty, too, but that's another issue--I never have liked the whole "sell yourself" paradigm.)

The job I've wanted the most thus far got a cover letter I would be forced to deem a masterpiece. After its completion, I made my Facebook status "if I believe the cover letter I just wrote about myself, I would not only hire me, I would marry me, clone me and leave me everything in the will."

My initial unemployment claim was denied because I didn't have enough hours in the base year. (The base year was funky and took place between 2008 and 2009. I don't get how they determine the base years and I'm not going to try--I get enough headaches as it is.) I have a pending appeal using an alternate, more recent base year. I'm keeping detailed records--the required job logs, printouts of job descriptions, etc. I spent $10.89 today to send a long-distance fax at Kinko's--it seemed a little steep, but I guess they have rent to pay, too. I haven't had any more interviews since the one I went on before my job ended, but I have found a few nice things to wear to interviews, which will definitely help with my confidence when I am called for another one.

This evening is the information session about the technical writing program I plan to attend. I'm trying not to be intimidated or freaked out, but I am a little of each. What if I go and I don't want to do it? Then, of course, there is everyone's favorite old friend--The Fear of Failure. I think the worst part of not working is that I have far too much time to sit around and ruminate. I have gotten a lot of home organization and important errands done and can come up with several other projects that need doing, but there's an awful lot of time left over to think. I hate feeling so adrift in my life.

I'm not gaining weight, but my ankle has been giving me fits so I haven't walked since last week. I did do part of an exercise DVD yesterday; I have a number of them, from Richard Simmons to Hip Hop Abs and a couple I got at Target that prominently feature perky women wearing bronzer. Richard Simmons is over the top, but I can't help but like him; people who knock him should try one of his workouts (I have no opinion about his infomercials, I have never watched them or bought those products). (As an unrelated side note, his appearance on "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" was one of my favorite episodes of that show.) I'm still trying to find a bathing suit I can live with and have yet another one en route from Ebay--I think I have to get in a pool because every other kind of exercise just ends up hurting too much. A long walk feels great when I'm doing it, but then I wake up in excruciating pain during the night for the next week--it just isn't worth it. Mr. Salted and I have come to the conclusion that we will find the money for me to exercise in a pool, whether I have an income or not. I hope this suit works. I do miss, even enjoy, being in the water. (I will enjoy it even more now that I've had Lasik and won't be floundering around blind!) Before and after actually I'm in the water, that's what isn't so easy.

My third wedding anniversary was yesterday. Mr. Salted and I went to our favorite getaway last weekend, or tried to--we got there and discovered the reservations were for this coming weekend and that we had messed up the dates. It is a long drive both ways, so we decided to get a cheap room at the local Econolodge and just go back again this weekend and have two getaways instead of one. He is so supportive, steady, loving, unwavering--just an incredible gift in my life, for which I am extremely thankful.