Yesterday Evan made the suggestion of a parallel between infidelity and job loss.

“If you think it’s happening, 99% of the time it’s happening.”

Not being the jealous type, I had never drawn the comparison before.  I’ve also never lost a job before, so there’s that.  What started as a big lump of stress and anxiety a few weeks ago has settled into a flat, noiseless non-worry.  Though I am fairly certain that my employer, the wacky little bakery, is circling the drain, I have personally reached an apathy plateau.  There is only so much energy I can devote to imagining my poverty, only so much uneasiness I can internalize on behalf of a life’s work that is not my own.

Having existed in a state of limbo and what ifs for at least a month, I now crave resolution.  Even though I suspect the outcome will not be a positive one for the state of artisanal baking in Lincoln Park, my brain longs for release.  This is probably a “bad attitude.”  Alas, I’ve surrendered the notion that there is anything I can do.  White flag is aloft.

I purchased my livestock some cat grass in the hopes that they’d eat it and stop vomiting all over the place.  It has sat, untouched, next to their food bowl for three days now.  I am raising the white flag on that one, too.