- in May, the Mortgage job fell through, and I was out of cash and out of rent credits (I earn a month's rent for every one of my landlord's other units that I rent out to other over-paying, "pink-cheeked ((his term))" tenants)
- in June, a day after my birthday, the LoveofMyLife emailed me saying, "I don't even like you anymore. Good-bye."
- all through June I temped for a bunch of Corporate-Level Indians in the Park Ave office of Dell Financial, logging in the minimum payment checks that desperate middle- and lower-class Americans sent in via certified mail in order to prevent having their accounts go into collections
- in July, I finally landed a job I can live with, so I started it -- and I'm only just now hitting my 60th day. 30 days to go and I'm hard to fire...
- on July 31st, a slimy law firm from Long Island siezed my checking account, demanding $1,600 for a credit card I defaulted on three years ago in order to make my move to NY a reality
In other words, I've been in crisis mode. Level Red on a bad day, Level Orange on a good one.
Hey, if a guy can't use a 9/11 metaphor -- no matter how lame -- on 9/11, then just when can he?
Don't lose faith. Lose patience, maybe, but I beg of you, please don't lose faith.
Cheers,
