Sick & Tired of Being Sick & Fired

There is nothing quite so delicious as a stolen hour of sleep on a Saturday morning, particularly when one needs it. Yesterday I would have been dishonest if, well. Wait. I was dishonest when I told people that I was feeling better. I know I sounded a bit better yet my lungs and sinuses were still encased in an intractable tegument of rubber cement. This morning I may actually be getting better, though as scales of that coating are finding their way out, in various, attractive ways. There is a distinct rumbling when I breathe followed by the curious sensation of oxygenated blood flowing through my brain. It’s a little tingly. You and I know it’s just oxygen but the addict in me? Is like, “Oh! Yeah!!!”

And now that the health thing is being restored I can think about restoring the (piddling) income that needs to be restored. This is a simple enough task. There are places that will hire me on the spot. Places that will actually pay me enough to keep my nose above water. I just have to show up at their door. I don’t really want to do any of those jobs, but it’s an income I’m replacing, not a career. My only career right now is making my way through the step work and perhaps returning to school (spring enrollment deadline is Nov. 29 - it’s sooner than I think!). Can you see me as a drug and alcohol counselor? Hmmmm. That’s what my dad thinks I should do. He may have something there.

This afternoon at the club there is a pot luck in celebration of Halloween. Good chance to be “a part of” so I suppose I’ll do that. I also need to do laundry. Need. Need to go buy bleach this morning, too. The sky is still that heartbreaking shade of blue. I’ll miss it when it ends. But I am not going to miss being sick. And I’m not going to miss being fired.