Breadline
I woke up this morning on Heather's pullout couch. It felt like a Saturday until she got dressed for work. Then it sunk in: I am unemployed.
Yesterday morning I came to work and talked to my boss. He talked to HR, HR talked to me, and by 10 a.m. I was out the door. The company doesn't let quitters stick around. I'll be paid through the end of the month, by which time I'll have traveled to three countries.
My belongings are scattered across Los Angeles. Andy's got my blue velour couch. Heather has two lamps, a pair of 8-pound dumbbells and the end table my grandmother gave me. The Buick is parked in her garage; the motorcycle is at Dan's. Clothes and books are in plastic bins stacked in Curtis's shed. The rest I sold on craigslist and a friend's front lawn.
It's after 11, and I'm still in my pajamas. I am unemployed and homeless. I like it.
Yesterday morning I came to work and talked to my boss. He talked to HR, HR talked to me, and by 10 a.m. I was out the door. The company doesn't let quitters stick around. I'll be paid through the end of the month, by which time I'll have traveled to three countries.
My belongings are scattered across Los Angeles. Andy's got my blue velour couch. Heather has two lamps, a pair of 8-pound dumbbells and the end table my grandmother gave me. The Buick is parked in her garage; the motorcycle is at Dan's. Clothes and books are in plastic bins stacked in Curtis's shed. The rest I sold on craigslist and a friend's front lawn.
It's after 11, and I'm still in my pajamas. I am unemployed and homeless. I like it.
posted by Badass at 10:46 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home