My jobhunting plan for yesterday was to fax my application for the English teaching position, sign up with the university temp agency, and put my name on the substitute teacher list.

I did sign up with the university temp agency, writing a cover letter which was supposed to sound insouciant and cheerful about doing so, even though of course my resume shows that I used to chair a program at the same university. That made me feel pretty sorry for myself.

Then I went to sign up on the sub list. First off, they are not taking any more names for this year, so my idea of finishing out the school year with some sub work is scuttled. This was, you understand, my bottom of the barrel idea, the plan which went, “Well, I can always put my name of the sub list.” Substitute teachers in my district are paid $70 a day if they have a degree — and if you are not needed for a full day, you don’t get the full amount, either, but are paid in fractions of that princely sum. It costs $22 to put your name on the sub list in the first place, so you can see that you have to teach for several hours before you earn back your fee. It works out to just about $7 an hour. My sons make more than that in their fast food jobs, and they get free sandwiches and ice cream, too. So this also made me feel pretty sorry for myself.

The English teaching position requires a bunch of stuff: an application, which I filled out at great length online and then could neither email not print, a resume, three letters of recommendation, and transcripts. I went to the office to pick up the application and filled it out again by hand. I made copies of the resume which The Resume Wizard made for me. I went to school so long ago that my transcripts cannot be ordered online, but have to be sent by mail. There is no way they will get there by 4:30 today. Also, I have been out of the classroom for 16 years, so any former teaching colleagues or supervisors would only be able to write a letter saying that they vaguely recall that I was able to get things across pretty well in the classroom. The Empress, who is facing her own traumas at the moment, said she would try to get a letter emailed to the place by the deadline, but I would need to write a draft. I don’t like this custom, though I’ve met it before, because you never say things about yourself that are as nice as what you say about other people, do you? So it seemed hopeless, not to mention the commute. I was feeling even more sorry for myself.

And then I went up to the store and spent the day doing inventory while people called and knocked on the door for us to let them in in spite of the large “CLOSED” sign. So, yeah, I was feeling downright pitiful.

I think it is possible that I didn’t wallow in misery enough in the first place.

If you know me well enough to be able to read this, then you know that I am generally cheerful, so the three partial days of wallowing that I allowed myself seemed like quite a bit.

But there is more to it than that. You know those games where you decide which Winnie-the-Pooh character you most resemble (Tigger) and so on? Well, imagine such a game, in which you decide which of the twelve apostles you would be. I am not sure what kind of quiz questions you’d have to come up with for that, but I can tell you for sure that I would most relate to the apostle Peter. He was the one who kept leaping up and doing stuff, even though it was completely contrary to God’s plans, and even though God had things entirely under control and didn’t really need Peter’s help. Jesus would say “Let’s do such and such” and Peter would say, “Hey, Lord, I have a better idea.” And then he would cut off someone’s ear or something.

Not perhaps so far from Tigger.

That’s how I am.

From a calm and realistic standpoint, I have a perfectly good job hunt going on, and will very likely be hired by one of the places I’ve applied to. The college, in fact, acknowledged receipt of the materials and understood that the transcripts won’t get to them by the deadline.

I have some nice freelance work as well. I am meeting with Client #2 tomorrow to begin our next project, and will be working on Client #1’s project today. I have tutoring, too, and my paid blog, and my little business (though admittedly I haven’t been perky enough of late to do much good there). I am enjoying the things I’m doing, most of the time.

This calm and realistic viewpoint doesn’t keep me from doing things like trying to get my name onto the sub list, in spite of its being an unpleasant job which wouldn’t allow me to make ends meet even if I were called in every single day. And then being dashed by the thought that even this desperate venture failed.

I do not have time today to wallow in misery, because I have a haircut, book club, and the Wednesday church marathon. Tomorrow I have that meeting with Client #2 and tutoring, and Friday I have a cooking show. Saturday is booked, too, actually, and in amongst all that I have freelance and volunteer work to do. I have a solo on Sunday morning, but the afternoon is free. However, Sunday seems like a bad day for wallowing in misery. Monday is always too busy. I will therefore plan to wallow in misery again next Tuesday, if it still seems as though I need to do that.