Unemployed in Vacationland

For the first time in my life I've been laid off and qualify for unemployment insurance. This couldn't have come at a better time seeing as it's summer in Maine; a short-lived, blessed, "the way life should be," "Vacationland" time of year that has a mythical sheen to it when you're huffing 4 feet of plowed snow from the end of your driveway again in January and you forgot what it's like to walk barefoot.

But in typical perfectionist fashion I am unable to completely enjoy this time unencumbered from the nagging feeling of responsibility. I have created stress city for myself: Oh, where to find 3 suitable jobs a week to apply for? Why can't I just apply for something completely out of my league and be done with it? (I am expecting the professional job search police to fine me for wasting precious company HR time or to note that I didn't read the qualifications required in the job description and blacklist me forever) Do I chance applying for a job I don't want since I will have to accept it if I get it? Is it too cheeky to send a cover letter that simply says "here's my resume, have at it"?

For those of you new to the world of UI (that's unemployment insurance, not some kind of urinary tract infection), it is of course full of bureaucratic rigamarole and busywork. And threats of punishment for any hint of fraud or noncooperation. I'm someone who likes to know she's following the rules to the letter. So much for my summer vacation. So much for 26 weeks of freedom, plus another 13 since the economy's so bad (thanks George W)...

So I guess it's a good thing that I've scored a job interview after 8 long weeks. Yes, only one so far. It's Maine after all, and I live in the largest city of a mere 65,000 people. Not an overwhelming amount of career opportunity for someone with a BA in English.

Yes, tomorrow morning at 11am I will report in full professional garb to officeland armed with my list of skills and abilities with vignettes to back them up, and try to act like I can solve any problem they throw at me. It's nice to think about working again, nice to belong to an organization, to have an explicit purpose in life that doesn't need to be uncovered each morning, or that involves something more meaningful than doing the dishes again. Or picking Japanese beetles off the bean plants. Or comparing the cost of laundry detergents.

Yes, tomorrow a little of the snow will melt off my self-esteem, my reason to be, and I will maybe, just maybe, catch a glimpse of the first little green shoot of possibility, the tight bud of a real, honest-to-goodness, paycheck in the bank, job.