Mom and Dad noticed that I spent most of the evening on the computer in some fashion. Okay, pretty much ALL the evening. Normally I try to be obviously productive when they're home, but I had gotten myself caught up in something of no lasting merit, and, well, to cut a long story short I was on the computer from pretty much when they got home to when they when to sleep, with but a break for dinner. So they broke out the "while you're under our roof" spiel and essentially told me I was going to help at the church at least some of tomorrow. Fine, fine. I got in more than my share of slacking today anyway.

Then they brought up also "pounding the pavement" looking for work. Okay, look. YOU TWO are the ones who proposed I quit the last place. I will continue to look for new employment at business sites, and make use of Monster.com and the like, and put my name out to every white collar location that will take it. But I have eight months of pro experience under my belt and I am not going to flip burgers, wait tables, or stand behind cash registers. Period.