EXPLETIVES, they're not just for sailors anymore.
I already ranted and raved on a previous occasion about how I am a temp, and therefore my life is a type of heinous purgatory spent forever treading on eggshells because you never know when the ax will fall and you'll be living in a refrigerator box, doing unseemly favors in exchange for half of a stale peanut butter sandwich.
|Be it ever so humble...|
DH says not to take it personally. And I can't even get into that without making this a really ugly scene so I'm just going to leave that part alone for now. Let's just say there are a whole lot of people around here who can't even look me in the eye after ruining my future.
Consequently, the big question remains the same as it was before: what's next? Despite having paid a shit-ton of cash for two degrees that aren't actually paid off I join the great unwashed masses in the unemployment line? Maybe... because I've used it before apparently that makes it OK for Harper-bot and the Decepti-Cons to exclude me from the program, so here is yet another wait-and-see for me to ruminate on as I spend endless hours dicking around on Facebook and Pinterest because nobody actually assigns work projects to the person who's leaving anyway.
And that's why kitty-mommy drinks too much.