All I want in a job is a housewife.

A nice little housewife, who’ll give me a steady life and not keep going off the rails. 

 I want a journalism job that wants me back. A job that I can throw myself into and feel rewarded by at the end of the day. A job that won’t follow me home. Well, that last part is wishful thinking. I’ve never done anything well except that I made it me. 

That line from “Say Hello Wave Goodbye” always makes me wistful. I used to want to be the housewife. I know now I’m never going to be just a nice little housewife. But I do want a steady life, or some semblance of it. Uncertainty is scary. Uncertainty is the only certainty. 

I don’t want to pick up the phone at 3 a.m. weeping about being unemployed. 

I’m so scared the internships won’t mean anything, references won’t mean anything, recommendations won’t mean anything, that everything I’ve ever learned or know won’t mean anything because there will always be someone better. 

I’m scared that someone better will always be Someone Not Me. 

I’m scared that I’m never going to have health insurance and the snotty receptionist at the dentist is going to keep looking at me like a criminal because I always pay in cash. I’m scared I’m never going to have my own vacuum lines on the carpet or cups of tea in the morning with a newspaper.

I’m scared I’m never going to have anything that is truly mine from making my own way.  

I’ve always had an affection for plain, practical Charlotte Lucas in Pride and Prejudice. Oh, to be mistress of my own home and not a burden. 


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