Day 1

I started my first day of freedom in gung ho fashion.  I got up at six, as was my normal routine.  I started some coffee and sat at the computer to peruse the online job boards.  By eight o’clock, I was on my third cup of coffee; I was getting the starts of the caffeine jitters, and my butt was numb from sitting for so long.  I had rewritten my resume, drafted several exceptional cover letters, and applied for six different positions.  I was certain that I would have a job by noon.

While I waited for the responses to come flying in, I decided to clean house.  I opened the windows for a good breeze and ran some hot, sudsy water to mop the floor.  I mopped, dusted and vacuumed, and when I finally looked at the clock again, it was nine thirty.  Surely, it was later than that!

I looked at the little clock in the corner of my computer screen, and sure enough, it was later.  Nine thirty-two.

I checked my email, certain to find a response to my resume, but my inbox was empty.

It was still early; I just needed to give these people more time to absorb how wonderful a candidate I was.

I started a load of laundry, went grocery shopping, and checked my email again at noon.  Surely, that had to be enough time for some wonderful, prospective employer to respond to my beautiful resume with my name in fourteen point font and offer me the perfect job.

This time I had an email!

“Career opportunity,” read the subject.  “Hello my name is Janice Mayberry,” the email started.  For some reason my subconscious had given Janice a lilting, upper-crust British accent.

“Well, hello, Janice,” I responded to the voice of Janice in my head.

“I am emailing you today because I saw your resume on one of the online job boards, and I feel that you would be an excellent candidate for a position that is opening soon at my company.”

“Why, thank you Janice.  I am honored that you would consider me.”

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to work with a growing company soon to be a leader.”

“It sounds like a great deal, Janice.  Where do I sign up?”

“Please contact me shortly to arrange an interview time.  We will be hosting several job fairs in your area.  Regards, Janice Mayberry, Blue Light Insurance.”

“Insurance?” I asked the email.  “Janice, you got me excited for insurance?  I thought we were going to be friends and have tea, and you could tell me about your school days in London.”  I wagged the mouse over the delete button undecidedly before finally making up my mind and clicking it.

I picked up my phone and called my boyfriend Chuck.  Chuck and I had been dating for a couple of years, and though we didn’t live together, we saw each other almost every day.

I had a hunch that he would be popping the big question any day now.  He was probably just waiting for the right time like Christmas or Veterans Day.

“This is Chuck,” he answered after the third ring.

“Hi, honey,” I said with a smile in my voice.  “How is your day going?”

“Can I call you back in a little bit?  I’m out to lunch with a client.”  He sounded a little harried, and I hoped he wasn’t working too hard.

I could hear typical restaurant noise in the background, silverware on plates, talking, and a woman laughing.  “I’ll talk to you later then, sweetie, and tell whoever that is laughing not to be so loud.  I can hear her on the other end of the phone.”

“Alright, I will. Later,” he said.  Then he disconnected the call.

I was alone with half of the day left.  My house was clean, my fridge was stocked, and I didn’t have much left to do.

I picked one of the books that I had been meaning to read from my crammed book shelf and settled down in my comfy chair.

I was halfway through my book, and the heroine was about to find a major clue that would unlock the mystery when Chuck called.

“Hi, honey,” I answered chipperly, marking my page with a grocery receipt.

“Hi, babe.  I’m going to be a little late coming over tonight, but I’ll bring over some pizza from Lou’s to make it up to you.”

“Okay, just remember; no mushrooms.”

“No mushrooms; got it.”

We said our goodbyes, and I settled back to continue reading my book.

The sky started to dim, so I got up to turn on some lights.  It was six o’clock, and Chuck still wasn’t there.  I was hungry, but Chuck had promised pizza, so I compromised by having a glass of orange juice as a snack.

Seven o’clock came, and the heroine of my book had discovered that the victim’s neighbor had killed her for some valuable antique spoons.  I mentally scratched my head.  How valuable could a spoon really be, and where would I pick up a set of these spoons?

Suddenly, my phone rang, and it was Chuck.  “Was the pizza taking too long?” I asked in way of greeting.

“I’m sorry, babe.  I got stuck at the office longer than expected.”  I could hear road noise in the background.

“Did you get a chance to order the pizza?  If you didn’t, I can order it, and you can pick it up on your way over.”  I re-shelved my book and straightened a nick-knack.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it over tonight.”

“Why not?  It’s not that late.  We could eat our pizza and watch some television and snuggle.”

“Stop it about the pizza!” he snapped, and I cringed as if I had been slapped through the phone.

“We don’t have to have pizza.  I just thought that was what you wanted,” I said, stunned at his sudden change of mood.  I picked up another book, but I stared at it without noticing the cover.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

I was severely confused now.  “What are you talking about?  You are the one who said you were coming over late and bringing pizza.”

“It’s over.  I can’t deal with you badgering me anymore…”  His voice had gone cold, and I was frozen in place, gripping my phone.

“What do you mean ‘badgering?’  When have I ever badgered?” my voice squeaked out.  I was staring out at nothing, my eyes unfocused and bewildered by these sudden events.

“This past weekend.  I said I wanted to go out with the guys, and you kept asking questions until I decided to just stay home and watch television with you.”

“All I asked was who was going and where you were going!  I hardly find that badgering.”  My coldness was building to a hot anger as I felt like I was being attacked.  I put the book back on the shelf somewhat roughly.

“There you go again yelling at me,” he said.

“I am not yelling at you,” I declared.  “I’ll tell you what.  We’ll take a little break, and you can go home for the night.  In the morning, we can go for breakfast and discuss things.”  I was trying to sound reasonable and not at all “badgering.”

“Fine; whatever,” Chuck said and hung up.

I stared for a long moment at the phone in my hand.  The display was still lit with a smiling picture of the two of us together at a friend’s wedding.  My hair was pinned up in a rhinestone covered barrette, and his hand was possessively around my waist.

What was his deal?  I didn’t “badger.”  I would never tell him he couldn’t go out with his friends.  He was the one who decided to stay home with me and watch reruns.

In my haze of shock, my previous hunger was forgotten.  On autopilot, I walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth before going to bed.

I glanced in the mirror over my sink and burst into tears.  I looked like hell.  My cheeks were flushed; my ginger colored hair was nappy on the side of my head from reclining in my cozy chair all afternoon; I had a giant pimple in the middle of my forehead, and to top it all off, I looked fat!  It was like I had the sudden realization that I was not my former size six self.  No wonder Chuck had decided he didn’t like me anymore and had to make up some ridiculous story about me badgering him!

I slowly, meticulously cleansed my face and liberally applied a cream to my pimple.

What a horrible day!  I thought as I settled into bed.  At least tomorrow will be better.  It had to be.  I would meet up with Chuck; we would work things out, and I would receive a call from a prospective employer offering me a lucrative job that I would enjoy, and we would live happily ever after.