A Conversation Between You and Me (Or Should That Be I?)

Me: So Baroy got fired yesterday.

You: Oh, I'm so sorry to hear...Wait a minute! How could he get fired? I thought he didn't have a job! Isn't that what you've been bitching and moaning about for the last couple of weeks? Isn't that why we've had to read endless essay after endless essay about the choices you do have or don't have or whatever?

Me: Um. Yeah. Well, see, he didn't really have a job. He had a consulting gig. Part-time. And it didn't make him very much money. And so I didn't want to complicate things by talking about it in too much detail, because it didn't really make that much of a difference to my life choices whether he was working at it or not.

You: So why are you telling us that he got fired?

Me: Because, apparently, I was wrong, and it does make a huge difference to my life choices. Especially now that I'd decided that I actually had some.

You: And what the hell does THAT mean?

Me: Well, I can't exactly go and try to cut back my hours now, when any extra income we might have had coming in is gone. So I'm back to not having any real choices.

You: Do you really want to open up that can of worms again?

Me: You're right. I don't. Forget I said anything.

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Yeah. So, Baroy got fired. And literally less than an hour later, I had my shrink appointment. So while the macro-timing couldn't have been worse, coming after I spent the equivalent of a new house on various presents for the kids and Baroy for Chanukah, the micro-timing was just right, because I got to go and spew all my evilness in a nice, safe therapeutic atmosphere, so that when I went home, I was able to be wifely and supportive and not bitter and mean.

I'm still liking my new therapist, and she does make me think (the results of said thinking will be a topic for another entry, soon). But yesterday she came very, very close to losing me altogether. What was her crime? She actually talked to me about my...and I quote..."inner child." As in "and what does your inner child think about that?" No. No, no, no, no, no. I am NOT playing that game, lady. Besides, my inner child is in a time-out for scribbling on my thoracic wall with her new crayons, so she doesn't get to have an opinion.

I was impressed with Baroy, however. Normally, rejection of any sort puts him into a five-day funk that makes me want to throttle him with a dishtowel. So this, I figured, was good for at least two weeks in his "dark place." But no. By the time I got home, he was talking to a friend of ours on the phone, and laughing about it. And while he didn't sleep much at all last night, he did manage to pull himself together well enough that by the end of the evening he was playing and laughing with the kids. Kudos to him. A definite sign of maturity. And at not-yet-50 years of age, too!

The woman who kicked off the events that led to this firing--and who was also canned as well--sent him an email wishing him well and suggesting that they let bygones be bygones and "ride off into the sunset." This pissed me off immensely, because...well, frankly, because she's a royal bitch who was nasty and petty and unprofessional and deserved what she got but didn't deserve to be allowed to take Baroy down with her. So when Baroy asked if he should reply, I said yes, and then fed him the final line of his return email, which read something like this: "And as for the suggestion that we ride off into the sunset, that's fine, so long as it's in opposite directions. Good luck in all you do in the future." Cold, isn't it? I love it.