Cover Me... I'm Going In

So the Regan got a job, I guess that means I'll have to find one too.... barf.

I've been trying for 24 hours to write a cover letter. I have a whole book that tells me exactly HOW to write a cover letter. Still, I can't seem to just do it. Clearly I need more Nike yoga pants. Refreshing?

Maybe I'll blame my procrastination on the fact that Regan and I keep passing the same throat disease back and forth. Yes it's gross, and yes it's going to stop, I hope. The thing is, he's so darn cute. He even got a hair cut. Just one. Make the throat monster stop!

Anyhow, I've been trying to play-up my old high school contacts in the hopes of getting supply work or a volunteer position. Also, certain job postings have just been released, and things look promising. If I don't get something to do soon they're going to make me go plough the fields of Utopia... and not in the fun way that some of you might be thinking about. Except in Grenfel.

Powerade tastes like poo.