When I was done with college, which is to say when college was done with me, I spent about five months living with my parents, doing nothing. That this was not uncommon for someone in my position was of little comfort to my parents who were eager to see me make something of myself besides drunk. The deal was that as long as I was looking for a job, my parents (my mom, really) wouldn’t interfere in any way. After two months with no sign of me doing anything more productive than showing up at the dinner table, however, the subtle hints began popping up. It started with finding the Classifieds lying outside of my bedroom door, and ended with a statement designed to brook no argument: “You need to go find a job.” Continue reading