The Job Hunt & What's for Stupid Dinner?

Well, another Monday is staring me in the face, and I continue staring at unemployment.

The applications have been hung into cyber space with care, with hopes that St. Hire Me will soon be there.  Until then, I am going to attend several Nursing Fair/Open Houses this week, handing out my resume to anyone with a pulse. I jest with that last comment, of course, but I know by attending these events, I will be able to become more "visible", or at the very least see if nursing recruiters actually exist.

Meanwhile, back at the home front, more pressing, urgent needs require my attention. The laundry is beginning to pile up to frightening heights, so much so that I've nicknamed it Mt. Laundry. This is okay, as long as it doesn't erupt.

Dinner plans need to be made, which has to be one of my least favorite tasks as a wife/mother. I don't mind the actual cooking too much, but it's the planning I despise. In my warped mind, dinner is such a stupid meal. Think about it. 

Breakfast is so simple. Dump some cereal into a bowl, pour cold milk all over, grab a spoon and dig in. Instant meal. Lunch is a quick sandwich, or a burger and fries at your favorite rot-gut fast food joint. So easy.

Than dinner rolls around. Suddenly things get all complicated. There has to be a Main Dish (some sort of meat/protein), a Side Dish (usually a vegetable/potato/rice), a salad, etc. My point is, there's far too much work involved. Oh sure, it's all in the name of healthy eating and survival, and other annoying reasons, but if push came to shove, I'd eat out more than I'd eat in. My favorite recipe is 1-800-RESERVATIONS. (I know that's too many characters to be a real number. Get off my case, I'm trying to make a valid point here.)

I know I'm winding up into some major whining now, so I will cease and desist immediately. But just in case you were curious, tonight we'll probably eat some hideous meatloaf, mashed potatoes and mixed vegetable medley. And while I'm force-feeding myself I'll close my eyes and transport myself to my favorite restaurant, where I'm sinking my teeth into a delicious bite of petite Fillet Mignon. Perhaps we'll go there this weekend.

After I finish the laundry.