The Second-Guessing Game

As I find myself still in pajamas and halfway through a layer cake before noon more and more often these days, it feels like maybe it's time to start questioning some of my choices.

It's been almost three full months since I was laid off but more than six months since I started looking for a new job. And, after sending out scores of resumes, so far I've had two interviews. Two. That doesn't feel like much.

As more time passes, it's hard not to become discouraged and question nearly every choice I've made that's led me to this point. At least I know I'm not alone. My husband, too, has been second guessing his career choice.

In fact, just the other night he woke me up at 4 a.m. to say, "Maybe I should have been an accountant."

It's the middle of the night so immediately I thought, "Jesus. Maybe I should've been a nun."

But I can't blame him. I share the same self-doubt. I was recently wondering if there's a statute of limitations on asking your dad to pay for law school. If only mine weren't so with it, I'd consider dying my hair back to its original brown and trying to convince him it was 1993 again. Plus, if I applied now, could I bypass the LSAT if I swear on a Bible that I've never missed an episode of The Good Wife?

So, I do think about law school, which had been my original, post-college plan, until I decided writing seemed like more "fun." Also, at the time, tons of new grads were hiding out from yet another challenging economy by pursuing a law degree. Now, fast forward 20 years and, turns out, everyone actually became a writer.

Even though I'd describe that as my occupation, when you work in the media field, as my husband and I did, your skill set seems broad and kind of vague and I think we'd both feel better if our experience could be captured with one specific, clear-cut title, like "teacher," "truck driver," or even "taxidermist."

I've seen a lot of ads recently looking for people to take the test to become a police officer. With my inexplicable love for detective shows, I'd consider getting into that line of work but I'm already too old - 35 is the cut-off for taking the exam. And let's face it, those uniform pants are so unflattering, especially when you're newest hobby is hoovering down Oreos like a competitive eater.

After months of grappling with reinventing ourselves before we're forced to sell our plasma or write copy for electronic cigarettes, my husband decided to begin an online course in web development. Just 320 hours and $2,300 from now, he will have a title and offers will be coming in faster than calls from creditors.

I can already picture his future office, complete with those inspirational prints in which dolphins shoot up out of the water above encouraging but totally obvious captions, like "A journey starts with a single step," or "There is no end to the amount of things you can accomplish." The adult equivalent of those omnipresent "Hang in there!" kitten posters of our youth.

But several hours into the free trial, he steps away from his computer to say, "Maybe I should consider becoming a real estate agent."

Now I take this with a grain of salt because I realize he's just come off a Modern Family marathon and damn if that Phil Dunphy doesn't make selling houses look so appealing.

But, still, all his wavering makes me second guess my own thoughts on polygamy. Maybe it's not such a bad idea as this, in fact, seems like the perfect time to pass him off to my "sister wife."

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