Misery

Misery loves company. Or is it cornflakes? I can never remember. Anyway, there was plenty of misery to be had. Plenty of cornflakes, too, but that's beside the point.

Okay. The point is: it was morning. It was miserable. I had plenty of cereal and no milk. And this was seeming more and more like a metaphor for my life somehow. Plus, how miserable do you have to be to be seriously considering eating dry cornflakes for breakfast? And no coffee.

God. Sorry. What was I getting at? Right. Misery.

It was a miserable, rainy morning. Kirsten had left me the night before. I'd gotten myself thoroughly trashed with whatever was left in the liquor cabinet. I certainly hadn't thought to hydrate properly. And, funny enough, my problems hadn't all miraculously vanished by the next day. Looking for a job being another one of those problems.

Had I not mentioned I was also recently unemployed? Yeah. It's been a great week.

So I crunched on dry cornflakes and water. I kept habitually checking my phone, expecting a morning text from Kirsten. All I found was another “We're sorry to say...” e-mail from a potential employer.