More memories of being fired …
So what you do your first day out of work?
You try to wade through boxes of junk moved from one environment to another, fight valiantly to stay out of the frig, and keep a box of tissues close at nose. In my closet I found two company T-shirts. I think I'll put an ad in the company newsletter: "For sale: Two company T-shirts, hardly worn. No sentimental value attached. Call 555-5555."
The morning after, I sat on the toilet lid and cried while my husband showered. The bathroom seemed the natural place to cry with the rush of nature at hand.
He got out, dried off, quickly dressed and repeated how much he loved me. Finally, he took my hand and held it high above my head as I stared through the tears.
"Huh?" I whined.
"Don't cry for all the ex-NFL coaches. They can do product endorsements," he declared.
Ah, yes, I could see my new career now. I could peddle pens (I had enough to fill an office supply store). I could endorse erasers (you never can have too many after chewing them of your pencils). I could fumble file folders (see how they can be reused and the sturdy doodling space they offer).
A sense of relief suddenly energized my brain and I had to laugh. And why not? It was my first full day of unobligated freedom in almost 12 years. Sure, we'd have to trim expenses for a while, but I'd be foolish to overlook my first true vacation in 12 years. I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to do today.
"Honey, since you're home for the day, can you pick up the shirts at the cleaners, stop at the grocery store and don't forget the garbage bags. The sink really is overflowing and I'm just about out of socks. I used the last washcloth this morning. Oh, and don't forget to refill the ice cube trays, water filter and make sure you don't leave the light on in the microwave. Every time I walk in the kitchen, it's on. Don't forget the cat food. He's depending on you."
And he wondered why I turned on the waterworks again …
More tomorrow …
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