All Jacked Up Again
I may need to sell this TV for a can of beans.
It’s been a week since I lost the job at the paper, and I spend half the time on my couch, wallowing in my depression. I poured my energy into that job, only to have the seat knocked out from under me.
Anne invites me over three nights out of this week. I accept, if for no other reason than to get some food. I’ll admit that spending time with her is nice, too.
But I can’t keep wallowing.
“Jack?” Mom’s sweet voice.
Oh yeah, my parents visit me the other four nights of the week.
“Can we come in? Is that nice girl, Cindy, there?”
Cindy? What a way to ruin a perfectly good depression.