I was laid off 8 days ago. And I was pretty alright with it, all things considered. One day I’ll be able to share the details of exactly what occurred, and why I’m fairly certain it goes down in history as the Best Layoff Ever. But right now, out of respect for an agency full of people I still very much care about, that story will have to wait.
But my point was that I was laid off 8 days ago. And that was ok.
It was ok when, 6 days ago, The Wife woke me up with phone calls at 7am to tell me she got rear-ended on the way to work. No one was hurt, there was no damage to speak of, and she wasn’t at fault. It was ok.
But at midnight that same day, when we got the lease renewal papers from our landlord informing us that our rent was increasing FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS A MONTH, it was no longer ok. It was fucking aggravating.
In four days I had lost my job, our car got scratched, and we were being (essentially) kicked out of our apartment.
I have had better weeks.
My solution was twofold. First: Sing this song repeatedly until I started believing it again.
And second: Find a new place to live so fast that we actually go backward in time, destabilizing the earth’s magnetic fields and spontaneously causing all the oil to turn back into dinosaurs.
My feeling was if we could get at least one thing going our way, everything would be alright.
Two days ago The Wife and I were approved for a new apartment, about 3 blocks from our current one, with a balcony and a view of New York. For less than we paid last year.
Sorry about all the Triceratops running around.