Don't Track the Economy into your House

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My wife Robin stepped in dog shit this afternoon, and tracked it in the house. Somehow, that seems to be a perfect metaphor for our lives over the past several weeks.

In my last post, I bragged about how I loved the company I work for... they were paying me Superintendent's money while I was doing laborer's work. That's because the economy is a lot like what Robin stepped in today. Then things picked up and I got a project of my own to run for a few months. Back to being the boss! I like it!

Well, that situation didn't last. It seems that the family-owned company that has employed me for 30+ years had undergone a family feud, and the major partner took all his money out of the bank. The other partner -- who had been doing all the work but taking only a third of the financial "risks," decided to just close the doors and retire.

We had a few jobs still going, but I got leapfrogged in seniority this year by the owner's nephew. So I got laid off on my 29th wedding anniversary. And got told there was no coming back. Sort of put a damper on the mood around here.

At first they said I could keep my truck if I paid my own gas, and just turn it in some time after Christmas, when they company officially closes. But the other partner heard of this kind offer, and he over-ruled it -- made me give back the truck immediately. That's a nice way to treat a guy who's worked for you 30 years.

So I joined the many millions of others who've been bushwhacked by recent economic reality. I got a couple of juicy side jobs, so lately we've done OK. And being off steady work makes it easy to schedule work around the house. On the other hand, it makes it almost impossible to avoid those jobs any longer...

But I have a few months of unemployment benefits to enjoy, and Robin still has a great job. And we have a greater appreciation of just how good we've had it so far.

And the day was beautiful today. Our neighbor's dog got out of his shock-collar and wandered into our yard about an hour age. Fido, our guard-Beagle, went nuts barking, and we let him out to defend our ranch. Of course, all he did was play with Blackjack, and then refused to come back in the house. When Robin went to get a leash for Blackjack, she stepped right into a fresh pile of the economy, and didn't notice until it was too late -- she was in the house.

Yuck!

Thankfully, Pine-Sol saved the day. I wonder if we could dump a couple barrels of that stuff on Washington, D.C.?

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