It Gets Weirder

Ari the Therapist? Not so much of a help anymore.

Tonight he said, "Well, it really does sound like you're going to lose your job. How much money do you have in savings? Maybe you should get a roommate. You should definitely be looking for a roommate and another job."

I just sat there, gobsmacked. This was supposed to help?

Then he said, "Hospitalization is a possibility, too, if you want it."

Who the hell goes to a therapist and says, oh, please, lock me away in the loony bin?

As if I could even do that, anyway. I'd lose my job for sure, it would take 90 days for short term disability to kick in, there would be no one to look after my cats and I mean, WTF?

He kept saying, "Well, we have a problem here."

And then it dawned on me. Ari the Therapist was spacing me. He was opening the pod doors. He was spacing me.

And so it has come to pass. I'll find someone within my network of health insurance providers. I'll find a shrink, too, because the meds aren't working anymore.

Work? I got pulled off the requirements thing altogether. Instead, I was able to devote my entire day to the data dictionary thing. Last estimate? 65% through with it.

But this didn't stop Fireman Fred from saying, "Well. It's still late."

My head hurts. Actually, I think I have a migraine. It feels like someone's trying to screw a light bulb into my left eye. Oww.