Can a Potato Get a Job?

It's been just over a week since I became redundant, was let go, was told "it's not you, it's us." To be frankly honest, I still haven't finished updating my resume, haven't shipped the work computers back to New Jersey, haven't posted anything or looked at anything on Monster or CareerBuilder. I'm a slug. I'm unmotivated, I'm easily distracted and my fear of so many aspects to being jobless is paralyzing.

As we move quickly toward Thanksgiving (made a plan? Oh, right, I have to cook a turkey dinner...hmm...better get on that) and only slight more slowly toward Christmas (gifts? I have to think what to buy and afford them?) I feel ill-skilled to get all this done.

Even right now I need to tidy the living room as Fletcher has a pal coming over tomorrow. It's a pigsty in there. I just look at it and sigh. Then I sit on the couch and it adheres to me and I don't want to get up.

I can only hope I can overcome this lack of inertia and move in the vector of a job hunt. Easily the least favorite chore of my adult life.

Letting It Wash Over Me

My Friday (the one just a few days ago) was going pretty well. I had finished my Friday report, was getting started on another project when my boss called. I admit that I don't remember the exact words because as soon as the words "bad news" entered my ear, so did a rushing noise of doom as I was told that the CEO who started on Thursday had made some cost-cutting decisions and I was one of them. After four years at this company, I am unemployed.

My British friends call it being redundant. What a mild word for such a sad concept. I'm no longer valuable. This CEO looked at a spreadsheet, saw some numbers next to my name, couldn't decide what I added to the company, made a red mark. I'm sad, shocked, a little blue. I'm trying not to be frantic. In my attempt at calm, I've become something more like paralyzed. Inaction is my task for today. Again, it seems sad.

Yes, I called the headhunter I used four years ago. She actually remembered me. Does that say something about me (and I hope it's good) or something about how sharp she is? Also a good thing. I'm still putting off redoing my resume. I will, really, probably tomorrow or Thursday. I just fear it. It's such a concrete admission of what's going on. Also, I managed to not get to the Unemployment office in time today. Actually, I got there 25 minutes before they closed, but they waved me off with imperious government employee waves, finally saying, "come back tomorrow."

I'm afraid. I'm still stunned. I was told this wasn't because of how I did my job, but how can I not feel like a failure for being some lacking in value to be easily dismissed. I will tell myself that better things are ahead and meanwhile fear that being 46, fluffy and with skills for a job usually populated by people at the beginning of their work history will consign me to something I dislike, or something that doesn't give me a survivable wage.

For now, I let the fear wash over me, I let the panic slide down my back, I let the paralysis take its time with me and I try to find joy in sitcoms, oat bran in a real fabric bag and lotion that smells like pink grapefruit.

Thinking Through Cotton

I didn't realize that the lingering effect of flu would be a wooliness to my thoughts. Sure, I still have the gooiest cough that interrupts my sleep and continues to send me running for the bathroom as I try not to pee on myself, but it's the foggy brain that plagues me most. Plague - see what I did there?

Which is, frankly amazing, that I could make any sort of wordplay or joke as I feel like my personality has been folded into a tiny, sad square and packed away in a little, plain box. I feel dull, stupid and scatter-brained. I'm not known for having a great memory, but I can't walk three steps without forgetting why I started.

I can only hope that as the last of the insidious virus leaves my body, or the last of the white cells reorganize my internal system, that I will get back a bit of verve. Currently, I'm verve-less. Also, I'm lacking pep, vitality, energy and wit. Yes, totally witless.

So, while, inside my head I'm thinking complex thoughts about the misery of this House bill on healthcare that passed, but was neutered by the Stupak amendment, I can't seem to express any of the usual passion for or against the inspiring and irritating political types we've been seeing on our televisions. Bear with me, I'm sure my snarky, mean and hopefully, funny self will return.

Angry Ode to Swine Flu

I was coasting along thinking, "wow, my immunity is really holding up" when the cough started. I still insisted it was just allergies and no relation to the cough Fletcher had. Then Friday evening, I first started feeling the congestion, the runny nose, the general malaise. Saturday I was able to rally for the usual Saturday morning things, but was already feeling wan. I think the middle of Saturday was a big nap. I can hardly remember. Made it through Halloween night by the skin of my teeth. Sunday dawned with full realization, I was sick.

I started taking all the online flu assessments. All of them told me, based on my answers that I was VERY SICK. Chills started up, full body aches, headache, violent coughing, and fever. Thou foul flu filled with goo.

Thou demon of the chest and bronchial tubes. What evil biology forged your existence? What porcine curse has landed in my joints to produce aches and shivers?

Ah, angry misery has caused my whining that alienates my one true care-taker, the only one left not afflicted. Forever chilling my skin, bringing to mind a bath of ice. A burning forehead, a neck like a glowing coal, pushes thermometers to 101.6.

No ode can really get to the heart of what a craptastic beast this flu is. I also have to watch my poor child suffer along with me and fear that my husband will be next. Let the Tamiflu gods look kindly upon all three of us. O, fever hallucinations, I return.