Waiting for my phone to call?

Someone once told me "the most annoying sound is the one made by a phone which is not ringing".

I've been told that not later than this afternoon by a former junior high school friend. I didn't realize how true this was until I finally got aware that the single thing I'm waiting for, days long, is my cell phone to ring.
At this stage of unemployement, my unemployed, stressed, hypocondriac side took over my housewife side. I have to admit that I'm less and less committed to daily tasks and I even let dirty dishes wait till the evening in the sink, secretly hopping them will wash themselves.
I sent a few applications. At the beginning, when I was sending out applications,I had this self confidence, this arrogance almost, that helped me to believe I was worth something. At least if I was of no value for potential recruiters, I loved myself a lot, and I was convinced I had something to bring to the world.
Now some days have gone, some applications have been sent and my mailbox is as empty as my stomach when I decided not to cook for lunch. I applied for positions for which I perfectly match. My CV could be worse and yet, I feel now that everything I undertake is doomed to failure. Why?
I need a sign, something definitely positive to show me I don't work in vain, to tell me there is hope out there.
I need a sign, not something mystical, rather something tangible like an email invitng me for an interview, or a phone call asking for my availability. I know this sign will come, one day, after I delivered enough efforts to deserve it. By now, I'm allegedly not involved enough into this quest to deserve receiving a positive sign.
Signs don't come during the weekend, it's the rule. I will then wait for monday to come, turning on my phone at 9am, waiting for it to ring and break the silence of this appartment.

Male housewives should stop complaining. I guess my escape lies into chores and cooking. My kitchen is calling me. I'll answer this call.