28 Days Later....

Now I never told you what I do for a living. And no, it's not being a zombie extra. Although you'd be close. I work for Homeland Insecurity. Last March I got mowed down by a pile of suitcases coming out of an x-ray machine and ended up out of work. So I hobbled back after I got served with an eviction notice because the DOL can find billions and billions of reasons not to pay people. First day back was lovely. Starting with a "random computer selection" to get a piss test for drugs and alcohol. Right after lunch. Then, ten minutes to the end of my shift, a little old lady falls on me. Which pretty much means I'll spend the rest of my summer in a sling instead of a bikini.

And the fun continues dear reader... yesterday my laptop passed away. My constant companion of nine years and repository of my campaign stickers has accessed the internet for the last time. My assembly-required dresser decides to come apart at the seams. And then I dropped a jar of honey on my kitchen floor. I took the gooey mass of paper towels and Giant shopping bags down to the dumpster and it started to rain. Hard. Halfway back the the apartment I decided to stop and surrender to these strange laws of nature. Might as well get a good soaking in while I was available.

The rain brought out a few other denizens of my apartment complex who I rarely see, going to work at the dark side of dawn and coming in long past any descent hour. People came out of their one or two bedroom hovels in our low wage complex and gathered on stoops to look at me funny. Great. The only impression I've made on anyone in a year. I go back inside, sleep and get up the next morning. And there's a love poem on my palm tree doormat from a secret admirer. Squee!!

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