It's been 7 hours and 112 days...since they took my job away.
I had a dream last night, or rather, a nightmare. It was the day I was laid off. It was actually the same exact scene as that fateful morning back in January. The only difference? The reason. And the fighter planes outside the window. It'll help you to know that I worked for a jewelry company. Here's how it went down:
Horrible Boss #1 with Orange Hair: I'm just gonna get right to the point - we have to make cutbacks and you're on the list to go.Horrible Boss #2 with Orange Face: It's not performance-based.Horrible Boss #1 with Orange Hair: It's because of the jewelry jihad.Fighter plane races past window.Horrible Boss #2 with Orange Face: Yes, the jewelry jihad.Horrible Boss #1 with Orange Hair: We need you to leave right now. And leave your jewelry behind for the jihad.
I woke up panting and thrashing about in cold-sweat covered sheets. Gross. At least at grandma's house there's laundry in the building. I sat up and grabbed my blackberry, it's blue glow illuminating the crucifix above the headboard. I looked at the clock. 3am.
I stripped the bed and went down to the cellar. It's amazing the way the walk down those steps smells like a million moments from my childhood all at once.
I threw the wash in and sat on top of the washing machine, letting the sound and movement lull me into deep thought. Why is there a religious war against jewelry? Why was I on the wrong side of it? Why am I only finding out about this jihad 4 months later? Isn't this something they should have brought up during my review? If I join the jihad, will I get health insurance?
This isn't the first nightmare I've had recently. Last week I dreamt that my ex-boyfriend, a.k.a. Do Wrong, was attacked by a knife-wielding maniac in an alley. No, I wasn't the maniac. I don't know what any of these nightmares mean. Interpretations are welcome. Until I can afford me some expensive therapy, I'll just have to settle for free laundry downstairs.
Jobless Adventure: Face unemployment demons of subconscious in middle of the night. Get rewarded with laundry in the building.
Money Saved: $10 per laundry session (I'm using "drop off" prices). Although I probably need to start seeing a shrink again for about $200 a session. Maybe I could settle in the middle and just go get another happy lucky massage for 69 bucks. But there is something so indescribably therapeutic about seeing laundry hanging on a line, isn't there?