Your Unemployed Daughter

Currently, I’m sitting in my apartment while two men work on my leaking toilet (lest you worry, it’s been leaking inside the tank, which is quite conscientious of it, but the noise has begun to drive me crazy).

Now I hear water flowing and the men laughing and am moderately concerned about the shape my bathroom will be in when they depart, yet…at least I don’t have to go to work.

Something like “waiting for the guy to come and fix my toilet,” would be a huge pain in the ass if I were employed at my previous job. I’d be impatient, cranky, and ready to go. I’d have promised to get there asap—it is, of course, a Monday. I’d already be late. Yet, one must repair one’s leaky toilet, no? If only for posterity?

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