Oh, come ON.

You know that scene in movies where the character gets fired, gets dumped, accidentally runs over his dog, finds out he's out of milk, and walks to the car only to find it's out of gas, decides to walk to the store and then it starts raining? And he just shouts, "Oh, come ON!"

Or she. It could be a she.

No, I didn't get fired, get dumped, run over my dog/cat, or run out of milk (it is raining today, though -- and I AM out of gas). But I still feel like shouting "Oh, come ON!"

They started (or maybe had already been) showing the house. As in The House, as in the house we want. As in the house we WOULD have already, if not for my stupid school's stupid policy and stupid paperwork and the least flexible and accommodating principal EVER. The beautiful house that is perfect for us, is perfect distance to town, is literally right next to one of the schools where I occasionally sub, and whose rent was almost too good to be true. That house.

WHY?! This house has been on the market for YEARS, literally YEARS, and nobody has bought it. It has had one set of renters. ONE. Maybe they're asking too much to buy it, maybe people don't want a house that was built in 1819 (I think that was when it was....), but for whatever reason the house has been on the market for years. I repeat. YEARS. Now that we both have jobs (yes - this was going to be a MICHAEL GOT A JOB HIP HIP HOORAY! post, but now the happy has to share with the angry) we can most probably make the amount we'll need in around six weeks. Possibly more, but not much more. And then we could have it, have our own house (ish), and once again be out on our own. Except that they're showing it. And today, as I was driving home I saw that they are clearing some shrubbery and giving the sides a major scrub down. Because the Universe hates me THAT much, that it would dangle this house for the entire summer, allow it to stay unoccupied the entire time we are unemployed, and then -- six weeks before we can make it -- take it away.

Six. Weeks. The freaking thing has to stay unoccupied for roughly six more weeks. After that many years, can't it wait a little bit longer?

And while I'm whining, why can't I get a job?? Why do people (even people who specifically TOLD somebody to tell me to email them and remind them who I am) ignore my "please hire me" emails?

I'm taking the Social Studies GACE this weekend, because I gave up on getting a job based solely on my sheer love for the subject and profession itself (because for some reason that's not enough). I've been studying for the past couple of weeks, and I still have no idea what to expect from this test. I have a feeling I've been studying the wrong thing and am about to waste almost $100 on failing.

And, while I'm still whining, regarding Michael's job: I am so, so, so, excited that he has one -- and this one is even a good fit for him! It's relevant to what he did last year, similar machinery, and should be enjoyable for him. But I don't know how his first day went, because I don't get to talk to him about it. I kind of feel like I will never get to talk to him again, until weekends, because we now have complimentary hours -- in a way that doesn't remotely compliment anything. I'm coming home as he's leaving. I'm going to bed as he's getting home. I'm waking up while he's passing through one of many REM cycles for the night. We don't even have a minute of overlap.

And the house. Six. Weeks.

Say it with me.

OH, COME ON!

Keep on pushing, Sisyphus.