My unemployment benefits have officially dried up. The meager little check New York State has been sending me once a week is now no longer, and while it was well below what I made as a human being with some kind of worth, it paid the rent and sometimes allowed me to sleep at night. Sometimes.
I knew my claim couldn't last forever, and I had actually managed to extend it for several months past it's projected end-date. I've been keeping a keener watch on my finances lately, so I won't be fucked six ways 'til Sunday...yet. August will be interesting. The 17th will be my first anniversary of being a total loser with no job, and I'm already planning on hiding under the bed. The odds of any of the zillion jobs I've interviewed for to suddenly call me are getting lower by the day and I've already started stockpiling Fruit Roll-ups.
Speaking of that, I'm also hungry, but I'm afraid to go into the kitchen, on the chance that I'll spill lemon juice and salt into the gaping wound that is my ego, pride and self-esteem.
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