D-Day

I know. I can't believe it's been 2 1/2 months since my last post either. Honest to God, I looked at the date and thought, "No, that's wrong... my last post was at the end of April, not March." I actually kind of still think that (March?), but in the interest of not arguing with a computer program, let's not force the issue. Unfortunately, this isn't going to be much of an entry either. Shh, shh... it's okay. Let it all out. Tissues?

That's a dear. Right, I won't offer any false promises because clearly I cannot be trusted, but I will say that we're officially moved into the new house, I only have ten weeks left of grad school forever, and as soon as I get caught back up at MRFH, well, let's not get ahead of ourselves, but hopefully there will be more free time to be had. I know, empty words, but we'll see. But that's not why I've blown the dust off my keyboard to regale you tonight. No, this is actually a serious occasion. You see, today marks the one-year anniversary of the day I was laid off.

I won't go into any great detail, one because that's not what I feel like writing about, and two because thankfully that's all in the past and had a happy ending. I was incredibly lucky enough to be rehired very soon after, being out of work for under a month, so I have far, far less to complain about than many. Without my reemployment we certainly wouldn't have bought this house, so that short period of fear and uncertainty notwithstanding, our family has been very fortunate indeed. No tears or gnashing of teeth needed on my behalf, thanks.

However... that said, it was still something that came completely out of the blue (we were on vacation for God's sake, they actually called my cell on my last day of vacation to tell me the bad news), and for that brief period of time, it was incredibly scary. I'm not bitter and I've never been good at holding grudges, and Lord knows there are many people who were laid off before me and are still out of work now, so this is neither a complaint nor a plea for sympathy. If all I walked away with was a slightly bruised ego, well, that's a hell of a lot better than most, y'know? I guess I just needed someplace to mark the occasion, and since a lot of my coworkers are on Facebook, that wasn't exactly an option. (That'd be a fun entry though, wouldn't it? Status: ...turned off his cell phone all day and is afraid to check his voicemail. Or: ...is doing a lot better than this time last year, thanks for asking!) So instead, I forced you all to sit through an incoherent musing about something that only affected three people, didn't affect them for long, and is entirely in the past. Sorry about that.

Anyway, that's enough for now; back to the books, don't ya know. Because that's the joy of being a former proofreader in a group with one other native-born English speaker, three nice but only marginally fluent in English Chinese exchange students, and one Hungarian transplant- your editing services are always in demand. Hey, maybe that's a fall-back career...