Any sailor knows the feelings— full sails suddenly luff and deflate—slated to merely make a half-hearted attempt to fill with air. Forward progress comes to a stop; you’re dead in the water. It happens when you’re headed into the wind.Earlier this past week I wrote an entry about Marc’s new joblessness. His former employer didn’t like it; called him to task for his errant wife’s prose, so out of deference to a very nice guy, I deleted the post. Why the company should be all shook up is really beyond me since their story is all over the newspapers, including the Wall Street Journal. It’s not like this is some big secret or anything.
So, be that as it may, Marc is now officially laid off. We would be part of the national statistics of the newly 159,000 jobless for the month of September if not for the fact that Marc isn’t even eligible for unemployment due to his surgery—he is simply unable to work right now. We’re trying to figure out all the insurance ramifications, which elusively still seem to remain in limbo until a possible switch over to Cobra.
Given no employment and Marc’s slow recuperation (still in much pain when he bends his knee) we have been staying very close to home. Add three days of recent rain to that and it’s called the doldrums.
I have been checking for local jobs and about three possibilities jumped out at me: 1) motel maid; 2) motel maid and laundry; 3) Fred Meyer deli worker for 18 hours/week. Coos Bay, at 8% unemployment rate, isn’t exactly a hot bed of job opportunities heading into winter.
I told Marc I want to go camping. If we can get the weather to cooperate, I’d like to pack the gear into the boat and head across the bay to Clam Island. We would have it entirely to ourselves since no one ever thinks to camp there, even though it is BLM land and free to do so. Just one overnight under the stars with a camp fire and the ocean surf pounding mere yards away—now doesn’t that sound like something to get us past the doldrums?
