Stressed and depressed

I have a strict policy against writing about my job online. Excellent way to get shitcanned from said job, as so many before me can attest to. And my industry, newspapers, is not exactly flourishing. Seriously, if it wasn’t for running foreclosure notices I’d probably be in sackcloth and ashes already.

Instead, I’ve been pursuing other avenues of joining the rising tide of the unemployed.

Which is why I haven’t been writing anything lately. When worry about your job is all you’re thinking about and you have a policy against writing about your job, well, you don’t get a lot of writing done.

It’s been so long, I had to re-log in to Blogger, which I almost never have to do. “Hey stranger, who the fuck do you think you are? Fang Who?”

The shit all began to come down on inauguration day, of all days. To say it was a buzzkill is putting it politely. We even had a party that night, but by that time I was not in a partying frame of mind. I spent the day scrambling to get unfired, then had to slip away repeatedly during the party to get the work done I had put off all day while I was scrambling.

When I heard about that murder/suicide in Wilmington earlier this week, my first thought wasn’t “messy divorce,” it was “I’ll bet he just got fired.” Sure enough.

(For the record, I am contemplating neither murder nor suicide, but life without HBO and retail therapy trips to Costco is looking more and more likely. But not before this season of “Big Love” is through.)

So at the moment, I’m hanging onto my job by a thread and just about to take a week off to recover from shoulder surgery (which is scheduled to occur sometime tomorrow) to illustrate exactly how expendable I am at a time when that issue is already under active consideration.

Did I mention I was stressed and depressed?

On the plus side, the rest of the family is flourishing. The Missus’ career seems to be firing on all cylinders. Lots of road-trip conferences coming up which will give me plenty of extra time to spend with The Boy, who is 3+ now and more fun to hang out with every day. Seriously. And the potty training is going great at home, but he completely refuses to pursue it at daycare.

So hey, if I do find myself walking the breadline, we can save oodles of cash by taking The Boy out of daycare and I can get this potty-training ordeal wrapped up that much quicker.

My glass is always half-full, but that’s just me. (Note: just make sure you don’t drink whatever my glass is half full of.)

I wouldn’t have bothered posting at all, but I know if some of my friends go too long between posting I tend to start forgetting to check, so I figured I oughtta put something up here.

To sum up then: I’m here, I’m scared, get used to it.