What do you mean I need to work for a living??

Rosie’s take on… Working for a living

Who exactly was it that decided we have to work for a living? One day my parents just decided to birth me and bring me into this world without giving me a choice, and now I’m expected to work for my entire life and contribute to society? I’ve thought about it, and thanks, but no thanks. Initially, this will sound counterintuitive to my previous post about how great growing up is, responsibilities and all, but hear me out.

Literally all I want to do with my time at present is watch movies (specifically Disney movies and all the rom coms in the world), eat food, write my blog, cook, clean my house, and maybe workout. I also wouldn’t mind writing the novel I’ve had in my head for about a year that’s sure to make me as rich, famous and happy as J.K. Rowling. You know what I achieved last week? Well, I didn’t make like any of my favourite workout classes at the gym. I had to go to the airport TWICE, saying goodbye to my older sisters who have decided to abandon me for Canada, and goodbye to my Dad who’s back to work in Brisbane for the next few weeks before his one week home again. Do you know how draining it is, leaving people at the airport and not getting to go anywhere? Very. Plus, the airport is like really far away. But I digress. You know what else I did last week? Okay, admittedly I watched like three Harry Potter films. And I got another tattoo. And I had lunch with my Nan. And I went out for dinner. And went to a 21st. But I also had to go to work. And I am no closer to finishing (or even starting) my life changing novel.

I’m actually kind of a domestic goddess, given the right circumstances. I can cook, I can clean, and I actually really enjoy doing so. Except when I’ve been at work all day. On one of my days off this week, I cooked an actual roast for dinner. You know what I had for dinner when I finally got home from work the other night at nearly 10pm? Cheese slices and salami. If I didn’t have to go out and work for a living all the time, I’d not only be zen from baking and cleaning all day, but the house would be spotless, it would constantly smell like muffins, and the breadwinner of the house, Lisa, would come home to a home cooked meal ready on the table every night.

So essentially, I’ve decided to start buying lotto tickets regularly to better my chance at the opportunity to live the life I want to live. I am also open to the possibility of finding a suitable sugar daddy to support me financially. Everything I do is tainted by the fact that I still have to go to work. I have two Harry Potter movies left before I’ve re-watched them all for the millionth time, and I know I won’t have time to do it tomorrow, because I have to work. You know what would solve that? Winning the lotto so I don’t need to go to work. I think it’s fair. I had my own business by the time I was 12, a very successful one at that. Plus I used to weed people’s gardens, and I had a pamphlet run. I used to squeeze money out of my parents by babysitting their young children or doing jobs around the house. I started proper work when I was 15, working on the checkouts at Coles. While I’ve been moving around in different roles and stores, I am still with Coles to this day, my 5 year anniversary is literally in like two weeks time. Do you know how many different customers I have had to speak to in 5 years? I literally can’t even fathom that many people. 5 years is a long time for me to have committed to something when I’m only 20. Lowkey been working at Coles for a quarter of my life. So yes, I think I deserve to win the lottery. That’s not to say I’ll never work again, I’m not lazy, it just means I can quit my job (which, since I’ve recently moved stores again and started in a new position, is slowly eating my soul), and happily look for another job that is perhaps in the field in which I have spent the last 3 years studying. Set my life up real good with the extra time I have. Ideally, I’ll get a job doing what I love. In the meantime, I’ll have time to write my book. It means I can go to all my favourite workout classes, watch all of the Harry Potter movies, and enjoy the weather that is finally turning nice. It also means that in December (which, as anyone who works in retail will recognise, is the most vital time of year) when my two sisters that still remain in the country, along with my parents, pack up and head across the Nullarbor to their new lives in Brisbane, I can join them. For the drive I mean. Of course, once we reached Brisbane, I’d be jumping straight onto a plane and high tailing tf back to my home in Perth. But a family holiday, driving across Australia, spending Christmas in a caravan for the first time since I was a kid, seems like a lot to miss out on just because my current line of work deems December too important to grant me holidays. Therefore, my plan to win the lottery doesn’t just stem from laziness, but from the strong desire to spend Christmas with (most) of my family before they set up in Brisbane and I’m left alone in Perth. Should I fail to win the lotto, I’ll be spending Christmas Day in Perth, not even being able to speak to my family on Skype because of my stubborn refusal to get it.

Maybe I can use the power of the Internet to attract the attention of Ellen DeGeneres or Oprah or similar, who will read my tragic tale and surprise me with a cheque for $100,000,000 and a brand new car, so that I can follow my dream of travelling across the country with my family, and do so in a car that rivals Mum and Dad’s fancy new Jeep (they bought a Jeep!). That ought to give me some real life experience, adding substance to my book. Maybe Ellen will decide I’m so inspiring with my desire to write my novel that she will give me the $100,000,000 and help me get my first soon-to-be-best-selling book published. Who knows, the power of the Internet has encouraged stranger things. Just recently everyone lost their minds arguing over the colour of a dress; thanks a lot for that one, Internet.

Or if not Ellen, maybe everyone who reads this can just will me to win the lotto. I will accept the likes of good thoughts, wishful thinking, and also small cash donations to go towards my dream. Dig deep people, it’s for a good cause. In return, I will be happy to spam anybody who helps me achieve my goal, with photos of my trip. I don’t mess around. I haven’t deleted my text message conversation with Lisa since January 1st of this year, and currently there are over 1 850 photos in there. It ends up being an average of nearly 7 photos a day. And this is all while I’ve been working and at uni most of the time, can you imagine the potential if I was on holidays?

So tomorrow I’m going to go into the newsagents, hopefully remember what Dad taught me about buying lotto tickets and recall what to actually ask for, and (fingers crossed) win the big bucks. If I do win, I will also be available for appointments at parties and social gatherings, as I’m obviously psychic. Please cross your fingers, toes and your very being in the hopes of me winning the lotto or catching the attention of a (de)generous celebrity. I’m not lazy, I just want to be about to redirect my energy.

Note: Recently it has come to my attention that sometimes I can be so sarcastic, so dry, that not even my own family detects it. Is it really a joke if everyone thinks you’re being serious? But if you enjoy trying to figure out if I’m being serious or sarcastic, please subscribe to my blog so you will get notified via email when I make a post. Thank you!

The fam, taken last week before Canada happened
The fam, taken last week before Canada happened
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