Today is another Monday in a long, long, long succession of jobless Mondays. It has been approximately 52 Mondays since I got fired. I feel like Garfield right now: I want lasagna and I hate today.
Mr. Something just finished his first year of grad school. Yay! This means that for this week, he will be my at-home friend, and then he starts a summer internship. I am happy that we’ll get to hang out a little bit without school being in the way. He’s really fun to be around.
On the other hand, I’m pretty sure my unemployment runs out again this week. If anyone from the Unemployment Office (or whatever) is reading this, don’t you think the letters could say, “$MONEY has been deposited into your bank account. You have $MONEY left in this claim, or (#) weeks.” That would make too much sense, right? Sigh. Instead, I have to rely on my shaky, estimated math. I think I’ll get about $9 next week, if anything. Ugh. So I’m boned, a little.
I’m getting scared to check the mail again, because I don’t want that scary letter, and I don’t want to open my bills, which are sometimes for amounts greater than my weekly unemployment checks. My student loans are on the back burner right now because of “hardship deferments;” that is magnificent because those monthly payments are ridiculous. My education is doing jack for me, anyway.
Argh. I still want lasagna, and I still sort of hate today, but someday there will be a Monday that I don’t hate because it’ll be my first day of work. (Also, my birthday is on a Monday this year, so there’s that.)