Today was awful - the penultimate reduction in force, those who remain will either come out the other end of this to rebuild or we'll be the ones turning out the lights. The group is now small enough that we could hold a party in my house (and my house is small). I was not part of the layoff. I have decidedly mixed emotions about this - I am beyond ready to be done with this, it's so draining, but what the hell, this is an adventure. A shitty one, but I'm used to shitty adventures, right? I am there until this ride comes to a complete stop, or until I am asked to disembark. Or my house sells and a new plan opens before me. Or I win the lottery. Or any combination of the foregoing.
After the terrible, horrible, very bad day, a bunch of us went out to get drunk and laugh, people who were part of the cut and those who survived it, and the president of the company who had to make these decisions, and he was not at all presidential and was loud and bawdy and sloshed. He needs to know that we still love and respect him, because his job fucking sucks too.
We planned our futures - turning tricks, opening a pole dancing academy, chasing tourists up the beach offering to braid their hair, and of course, your standard bartending on the beach. It got tasteless and loud. It was healing.
Girlchild is moving out this weekend. Dudley is staying with me for the time being, until they are unpacked and settled, because she rightly concluded that a strange house full of empty would be too disorienting for him. After there is furniture and all is settled, in a week or so, she will take him to his new house and be able to spend time with him, so it feels like home.
Then I will kick getting the house ready to sell into overdrive. Because the stress I live with all day plus my crazy mother plus just living isn't enough, I need to kick it up a notch and move, too.