I’m closing in on a score of job applications sent out since being laid off at the end of January, I’ve only had one request for additional information so far, so you’re right to ask how can I write about winning. Truthfully, I would never recommend “winning” this way to anyone, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t record how I’m doing. If only because putting down these thoughts maintains my sanity. Because I’ve got a really good imagination and it would be so easy to go dark. So very easy, as I’ve considered all the worst-case scenarios in these intervening days.
I’m not going there, though. Either because I’m too stubborn or stupid. Maybe a little bit of both. I told my wife last week she might have been better off if the stroke I suffered last July had taken me out. Since she’d have had the life insurance as a financial cushion. She told me that was a horrible thing to contemplate and she’s right, which is normally the case. Going away wouldn’t help now, anyway; I don’t have the job, so I don’t have the company-paid life insurance any longer. This is the dark, bitter humor, folks. This is the stuff I have to say to purge it from my thoughts.
Because I’m winning. I’ve lost 5 pounds since I came home, as I’ve done a lot of work around the house, moving furniture and other items, shoveling the snow left behind by the occasional winter storm, and I’ve made it to the gym several times. Keeping the body busy keeps the mind busy, and burns calories at the same time. Strange how that works isn’t it.
My muse is firing on all cylinders and I hope to have a new short story completed before the week’s out. A dark short story, of course; circumstance influences her, too. I don’t think I’ll want to change these aspects of my life. I hear Simon and Garfunkel playing in the background, and the sound of silence and the softly creeping visions are welcome.