The rack is full and so are we, of laughing gas and ennui

Well, that's what one of my snit fits looks like.  I'm sorry you had to see that.  I really do try to repress as much as possible, but that stuff was leaking out of my ears.   Please keep your eyes peeled for my gratitude post tomorrow.  No really.  I have a long list of things I'm grateful for even in the midst of my midlife meltdown.

Okay, so now I am over it.  This is me letting go of the traditional idea of work.  Once those benefits are gone, I'm going to be one of those people who simply stops looking for work.  If I can't get paid to suck it, fuck it, flash my tits at it, wear it and then sell it on ebay, tweet it, bake it, youtube it or write it, I'm not worrying about it.

We will adjust further.  Priorities will be rent, utilities, food and gasoline.  The doctor, dentist and other small business people who normally enjoy a few dollars from us each month, well, sorry.  The big guys get their money.  Georgia Gas, Georgia Power, AT&T, Progressive Insurance, the water company, the oil company selling the least expensive gasoline.

I still taste the bitter.  Dang it.

Anyway, today has been interesting.  I paid what is likely my last visit to the Department of Labor.  They were holding a farewell party for some of us long-termers.  They even provided party hats and noisemakers.  And cake.  Three kinds.  There was chocolate for the transplants, red velvet for the real Southerners, and a carrot cake for the hippies.  It sat forlornly on the edge of the table next to the cruditees, mostly ignored while we gluttonous slackers attacked the hot wings and store brand potato chips with gusto.

I never did find the alleged cooler holding the beer, but while I was surfing the job search website, the guy at the computer next to me offered me some moonshine in a flask.  I typically don't drink after people, not even MathMan or the kids, but since we're talking serious alcohol here, I figured whatever crud that guy had left on the rim of that flask wouldn't do me any damage.  Plus, I'm pretty good at the waterfall move.  (Just don't mention backwash, please.)

I had to be furtive though.  The security guard was there performing his normal duties - holding up the wall next to the check-in and pushing in chairs after ill-mannered clients get up and lumber after their counselors into the cubicle maze without taking a moment to shove in their chairs.  A couple of clients asked him if he'd give us all a patdown so we could pretend we were going somewhere for the holidays.  He told them to pipe down and have some raw vegetables because that might be the last fresh veggies they see for a while.

I saw some folks pocketing food.  Sometimes you just have to look away.  Or at least don't make eye contact. We all deserve a little dignity, right?

I high-fived the counselor on my way out.  He wished me bobspeed and told me to let him know when my book gets published.  I felt propelled by his confidence.  So much so that I skipped across the street to where MathMan sat in the middle of total chaos at the pediatric dentist's office where he waited with Nate for a 10:45 a.m. appointment.

I sat reading Laura Munson's This Is Not the Story You Think It Is (psst, read this book) while MathMan graphed stuff on a calculator.  He is so hot when he does mathy stuff in public.  I leaned over and licked his ear. Around us a herd of preschoolers thundered about, shrieking and running, climbing into the playhouse in the corner.

The most talked about kid in the waiting room was named The Rattlesnake.  The rest of the kids hollered The Rattlesnake! The Rattlesnake! over and over while I tried to focus on the book and MathMan tried to recover from being licked in front of twenty-seven other adults who lined the room, staring up the TVs showing Food Network and wishing they were anywhere else but in that noisy room with the floofloovers and the tartookas, the whohoopers and gardookas.....

Nate was finally called back for his cleaning at noon.  I was feeling grateful for the guy and his flask of moonshine...

Thanks to all of you who left comments, sent jokes and emails and who contacted MathMan to make sure I hadn't leaped from the top of garage and broken my blogging fingers.  You guys are the best.  I love you all.

xoxoxox,

Lisa

P.S.  What are you reading? watching? doing over the long weekend?  Do you know anyone named The Rattlesnake?