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"Are you serious, right before Christmas?"

That was my wife's reaction when I got home. I can hear the half-hidden resentment, almost implying that I timed my fall from employment intentionally.

Intellectually, I understand where she's coming from, but it was a meaningless assault to my sanity since I was already numb by then. So I nodded and placated her like I've done so many times before.

Thanks to Seth, I was able to give her a consolation prize... a part time job in the industry while I interview during the other part. I didn't tell her that it was an entry-level job equivalent to flipping digital burgers... but she wouldn't understand anyway.

I downed my second lite low-carb Michelob Ultra as fast as the first in attempt to complete my journey into detached blissful apathy. I started drinking these beers when I was on a low-carb diet... but now I like the damn things. I'm not sure if I forgot what a real beer tastes like or I was never really interested in drinking actual beer. Either way, I feel that detached bliss that comes with the buzz of apathy..

As the discord of the day dropped away, I began planning tomorrow. I already called two recruiters and lined up four interviews all over midtown. I checked my suit had no holes and still fit. My Donald Trump dress shirt with the cuff-links of which the irony of Trump's "you're fired" and my situation was not lost. I did a quick load of laundry essentials since my wife doesn't do laundry

I never understand why she didn't do laundry. She always had one of the kids do it, and they certainly weren't doing my boxer briefs and dirty socks. Like Christianity, this is just one more of those mysteries that isn't meaningful enough to care about in light of the trivial effort the laundry is.

Drifting to sleep, I heard the last words of Seth Goldstein echoing in the cave of my skull. Why would a software company need a blood test? I almost forgot the anomalous tidbit of information in the heat of my wife's anxious angst. I guess I'll find out. 

The End

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