There is little winter to be seen. This is a moldy off-season, giving allergies, vertigo, and general fuzzy-headedness.
A fuzzy head isn’t helpful when starting a new job.
Yes, a new job. A new job reading documents, rearranging words.
Something that has seemed completely unattainable for me for several years. Since I had to quit my job at the newspaper to make more money to support Chadoh and I, almost four years ago.
But now, it all becomes clear. One of the reasons why I spent more time than I would have liked working in a state-run career center, so that we could have health insurance and afford to live in a basement apartment with mold issues of its own.
Life is literature. There is foreshadowing. Sometimes we have to do things that don’t make sense so everything can make sense later.
I won’t get to spend as much time at home for Christmas this year. But a job is better than a vacation. And I still will get to see my family, go to church with them on Christmas Eve, make mush for breakfast on Christmas morning, and stick around for my mom’s birthday the day after.
Maybe, if we’re lucky, we’ll get a festive holiday dusting. Just a bit of snow on the grass. But certainly won’t be snow on snow. Not yet, anyway.
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