Wile E. Coyote

My best friends and I have a tradition of naming the year.  We talked about a lot of ideas this new years eve and settled on The Year of Wile E. Coyote.  The idea being that, whatever it is, he always flings himself into it wholeheartedly.  Every damn time, there’s no hesitation on the edge of the cliff, he goes right over running forward even after the ground is no longer under him.

The next day, I voiced some concern over this.  The intent was the fearlessness, I suggested the reality might be a lot more cliff-diving, anvil dropping, dynomite-accident-having for all of us.

It is what, the 4th now?  And today W.E. Coyote went over the cliff.

I’ve never had my job reorganized right out of existence before.  It’s a singular experience; I’m not sure the implications have fully set in.   It isn’t quite like that euphoria that happens when you’ve resigned and you’ve got a couple of days between jobs when you are fully in ownership of yourself.  I mean, there’s no cushion.  No second income.  No trust fund.  I’ve got three weeks or so before my life becomes irrevocably effed, assuming I don’t find another job in there.  Don’t look at me like that – I haven’t been saving because I’m three payments away from being done with the left over debt from the demise of my marriage and my car is paid off.  It could be worse.

It’s early days, but so far I’m okay.  Really okay, not the kind of okay you tell yourself in the hopes that saying it out loud is going to make it true.

Meanwhile, anyone need an editor/writer?

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Wile E. Coyote

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