I Love Being At Home But I wanna Earn My Own Money!!!

So I had this new job. Great! wait, i don't like the sound of "job".
Let me rephrase it.
So I get to WORK AGAIN. Great! I didn’t have to box my entire life in the interior of our (not) own home. It’s been four long years having to spend hours and days just being alone at home doing routinary household chores. When everything’s done, i am left with nothing else to do, no one else to talk to. I couldn’t talk to our dog. What would you have thought of me? The hours I’d spend at home everyday are mostly spent on sleeping, cooking, eating the dish I cooked, surfing the net to read blogs and meet networking friends---the only socialization outside the family I’ve had in years. Have I not learned to talk before I confined myself in this daily solitary life as a stay-at-home wife, I would be mute and not conversant by now.

I glanced at my pile of laundry needed to be sort out to be put in our cabinet and the pile of dirty clothes to be sorted and listed before sending it off to our fave laundry service. I am the lady procrastinator (and I hope my prospective employers don’t get to read this). I always take my time in doing things. I’ve been my own boss in my own company for so long. So, I don’t get orders, I don’t need to give orders as well. I clean whenever I like. I cook meals whenever I feel like it. I bake and make desserts whenever I am in the mood to do so. I tend the garden whenever I have nothing else to do. We don’t even have a garden now. all we have outside the house is a façade of tall pale green grasses and trashes from neighbors and passers by. Somehow I feel self-pity having to go outside our fence to sweep the trashes they so let the waters carry and deposit in our territory. Students, teachers and other professionals would pass me by in the morning looking down at me with the look and sarcastic smile I could just interpret as something like I am so martyr sticking out with this stingy life when unlike them, I am way younger and have been seen actively working always riding a taxi to work every busy week mornings while they, so pretty with their make ups, fresh wet hair and clean neat uniform wait in the crowd for a jeepney to pull over and would have to run after the jeepney towards the “jeepney stop” because CITOM’s are always there every busy-week morning. They would look at me, very yuppie-like get up calling for a cab just before i’d smell burnt gas. And now, I so look damned in my ragged shorts, baggy shirts, and uncombed dry pony tailed hair smelling sweaty and smeared with earth from pulling off tall grasses annoyingly taking over my garden. I had to struggle myself at bending down to pull some garbage sticking so stubbornly on the earth because they’ve been there when it rained and stuck themselves on the ground when the mud got dried up after the rainy season.
For long we didn’t hire house helpers. We were doubtful if we could handle it financially and the reliability of the helper. For long, we haven’t had any person even from our family invade the privacy of our home. We (my husband and I) both liked it the way it is. My husband and I fight very often before because I always complain at how he handles the budget and how I so wanted to just lay around, give orders. He would complain at the expense it would take. Though, he wouldn’t agree at my request to work again so I won’t get bored, lazy and ugly. After many nerve-racking fights, he finally agreed to having a household help. So we got one –someone we got so lucky having because she was reliable enough in almost everything. She cooks really good, she cleans the house really well, she does the laundry good, she’s quick at doing errands, she doesn’t have to be told what to do. Except one time when I asked her to buy some stuffs outside and one was presto creams peanut butter flavored biscuit and even provided her with a written list of the items to buy. She bought a real peanut butter—the spread contained in breakables?! I just laughed softly at the mistake which was purely out of ignorance anyway. She was from a nearby island and never heard of the kind of biscuit. We only had her for less than 6 months because her stupid parents asked her to go home so she could resume her high school there. I told her to just stay and we’ll send her to the nearest night school together with other helpers but she refused because her parents really insisted on their proposal. I was so mad I didn’t talk to her for days before she had to go home. I became really mean to her and told her that I will only be giving her her month’s salary and would never proved her her fare to go back home. I really liked her because I felt I could really trust her and she said she like being here too because we were friends. I would take her shopping and all. I was so determined to help her not to make that wrong decision of going home. I know how poor they really are. Her parents don’t really have jobs back home. she has 4 more siblings and only one is working aside from her. true enough, when she went home, her cousins who works near here would tell me how frail and dark even more she became. They said she would go to school without having eaten breakfast nor was there lunch as well to eat later on as well. Her mom even left them while they were asleep and they didn’t know where their mom was. Is father would just fish using improvised fishing rod for their food. Her skirt uniform, they said, was just tied so it won’t fall off her waist because she lost so much more weight. I so pity her. she said she really would’ve wanted to come back and work here again but we don’t have any place for her in the house anymore. We had our sofa donated to my husband’s mom and furnished our sala with my husband’s motor parts. It really is like a junkyard in here. *sigh*. And now, I don’t know if she still has her cellphone—she bought one when I gave her a bonus one time. I can’t think of a way to end this so I could move on to my next subject. Perhaps just this: poverty sucks! What else?
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This is my first entry for this blog. I followed a friend’s advice—to just pour my heart out. thus, the title for this blog. Thanks for reading.