Right after Christopher was born, I worked as a hand inserter for the Washington Post. It only lasted one summer and although I miss telling people that I am a hand inserter (the job is obsolete now, anyway) I do not miss the crushing exhaustion of being a mom all day and a factory worker all night. The number of workers needed each night varied, so a crowd of thirty or more formed at the doors before they opened each night at 8. If you had worked the previous night, you had your little ticket with you and were selected first. There were few tickets in the crowd--there were only ten or so people who reappeared night after night. Even though I had my ticket, I showed up around 7:30 because I liked to eavesdrop on the number ladies' clients. Two women would listen to dreams and tell people what numbers to play based on what they heard. Once another woman came by to loudly announce that she would not be working that night; she was celebrating her $3500 win thanks to one of the number ladies. The work wasn't too interesting and there was no time to chat once it started. We did take a break to watch the Fourth of July fireworks from the roof, which was memorable. We got free newspapers, nice fresh ones. And I got to (over)hear people's dreams, which was kinda fun. The entire venture was designed to allow me to earn some cash without having to hire a sitter. I couldn't find anyone to watch an infant that young, anyway, and I would have had to pay for Jennifer as well.
Now that I am rolling in dough (think of me as Scrooge McDuck swandiving into my gleaming pool of coins) I have a babysitter who tells me her dreams. It's the best of both worlds! She's pretty serious about them. Once she was telling me about being on a double-decker bus when Sarah Ferguson (sp?) entered with a mixed-race baby in her arms and sat right next to her. I laughed and she got mad. What could I think was so funny? If she was on a double-decker bus with SF, then clearly she was in London, right? And just what was her soul doing wandering so far away? I am not one to laugh at trouble within, I assured her. This morning she told me that she went to bed late and had a troublesome sleep. In her dreams, an Ethiopian family let themselves into her house and starting doing laundry. She was fighting with them to get them to leave when she woke up. I guess since it was right here it was ok to laugh, because she was laughing herself when she finished telling me the dream.
I'll bet you're wondering if I did floss today. Wonder no more, I did indeed.