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.
“No, Mom. She doesn’t stay here, she’s not seeing me, and yes, you can come in.”
As they walk through the door, Dad grunts and Mom says, “I hope we didn’t scare her away. She seems to be such a nice girl, someone who would be good for you, honey.”
“What would be good for me right now is finding another job. I’ve got bills to pay.”
“A man has to keep his priorities straight.” That is Dad’s way of praising me.
“Well, time to change things.” I get up, unplug the TV, and pick it up. “Wanna open the door for me, please, Mom?”