(And
let me say, I can’t even begin to tell you how much better it feels now that
I’m finally a crippled, employed person with issues.)
Number of episodes of Judge Judy watched: 330
Number of dress sizes increased: 4
Number of hours spent lying on the floor while physically unable to get up: 3
Number of hours spent lying on the floor while physically able to get up but lacking any real reason to do so: 14
Number of hours spent sexting with the firefighter: 180
Number of hours spent actually having sex with the firefighter: 0
Number of friends who stopped speaking to me as soon as I lost my job: 3
Number of house plants dead because I stopped caring: 8
Number
of minutes spent hiding half-naked behind a door in a laundry room from
somebody’s mother: 4
Number
of additional part-time and or secondary jobs lost: 1
Number
of problems shared with Jay-Z as per the song, 99 problems: 99 – and a bitch IS
one
Number
of Tim Horton’s steeped teas with two creams consumed per day: 2
Number
of hours spent crying to the Adele 21 album: 23
Number
of hours spent inexplicably crying to the Abba Gold album: 4
Number
of EI applications submitted: 1
Number of EI applications rejected without any legal or procedural explanation but a letter attached explaining how to appeal: 1
Number of individual job applications submitted: 107
Number
of interviews: 8
Number
of full-time job offers in the fundraising sector extended and accepted: 1.
A
wise philosopher by the name of Kelly Clarkson once said, “What doesn’t kill
you makes you stronger.” Fantastic -
because taken to the next logical conclusion: I am now Iron Man. At the
very least, I should be impervious to bullets, sharks, most strains of E. Coli
and honey badgers.
The
sad fact is though – I am just as tightly clenched as I was the day I lost my
job. I don’t feel any relief. Instead, I feel like I could lose the job I’m
now working in at any second.
My
boss called me today to arrange a conference call, and I nearly burst into
tears, certain that he wanted to talk with me about how the organization had
made a terrible mistake in hiring me and were reversing that decision.
Even
if I’m not let go immediately following my two-week employee anniversary, I’m
kind of convinced that my body will just keep failing, and I won’t be able to
function anyway.
I’m
now in physiotherapy to address my back problems and subsequent disintegration
of my knees but…something else can go wrong.
Anything else can go wrong. Trust
me people – if your genitals ever explode you’ll be rendered terribly, terribly
alert too.
I
don’t have normal people health problems, which means at any time I could fall
victim to scurvy, Ebola, that infection that eats your skin, or whatever goiter
is.
Or
I could just bend over the wrong way and not be able to move again. Or try to have sex with somebody only to
learn that instead of just exploding, my vagina has grown teeth.
And
what if something terrible happens that hasn’t already happened? Something NEW and terrible? What if just by worrying about it I’ll make
it happen like the Stephen King version of the power of attraction?
What
if something happens to somebody I love?
What if I lose something else? My
family? My friends? My iPhone?
(I
include my iPhone only because of the naked pictures. They’re not of me of
course, but it would still be a disaster.)
Basically,
I’m waiting for further catastrophe. If
it comes, I’m devastated. If it doesn’t,
the dread remains exactly the same regardless.
Basically, I think my resiliency announced sometime in November 2011
that it was officially quitting this bitch, and I can hardly blame it.
Frankly,
if I wasn’t already so afraid of being terminated in some other way, I’d quit
this bitch too.
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