Temporary Insanity

I've got an appointment to sign up with a temp agency on Thursday, bright and early, at 9am (so as not to interfere with the watching of my show.)

As you already know if you've ever registered as a temp, the process involves spending an hour taking typing tests and talking about your dream job, then weeks go by, and finally, one glorious day, you get a call from your agency asking if you're willing to do light industrial work during the graveyard shift. By that point, you're so sick of eating spaghetti and butter three meals a day you agree, and, to make a long story short, that's why they now call you No Hand McGee.

But anyway, the lure of money is great, and I need to get out of the house to keep me from gnawing on the gingerbread walls all day long, and I'll be much more productive in my real job search if I'm stuck at a desk with nothing to do all day long but compose cover letters. I also love that when you're a temp, they're continually amazed if you show up sober and don't f* things up too bad, plus there's no pressure to learn anyone's name or suck up or anything. It's very relaxing.