Three years ago today was my last day of work.  I gave and graded a final exam, turned the grades in, and drove home.  I had been told I'd be brought back in January.  Then I was told I'd be on staff again in the summer.


I've lost count of the number of job applications I've put in over these intervening three years.  I used up all my unemployment benefits.  I have had exactly three job interviews, none of which bore fruit.

It's hard for me to believe that my life from now on will be sitting on my couch reading, knitting and computering.  It's fine for a break, but not necessarily a way of life.  But I don't know what else to do.  Have I served my entire life purpose already?  Do I simply hermitize from now on?  I've tried going places to get involved with people, but it didn't work out.  I tried volunteering for different organizations, but those opportunities dried up.  

So I sit.  Except for going to therapy, my psychiatrist and the grocery.  Occasionally, if I'm feeling particularly wild, I'll take myself out for a meal or a trip to a bookstore.  Otherwise, I sit.

I've got, maybe 30 more years of this?


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