There's a Pearl In My Wine Glass

Faux pas number one: Trying to make my case with the boss. Past experience should have been jumping up and down on my shoulder and screaming into my ear, “Shut up, you big dummy!” But the light bulb didn’t turn on and my normally introverted self kept talking (and talking, and talking).

Faux pas number two: Giving the boss's wife the cold shoulder (who, I should mention, was the cause of my trying to make my case with the boss in the first place). Of course, when the boss’s wife turns out to have multiple personalities that would send Sybil voluntarily fleeing into the proverbial corn bin, simply ignoring her seemed the safest course of action.
         
Faux pas number three: Not falling to my knees and begging for mercy when asked by said boss about criminal actions number one and two. Instead, I turned an interesting shade of purple while trying to suppress the mad hysterical laughter forcing its way up my throat and out of my big fat mouth.
         
Three strikes and you’re out. Fired. Terminated. Let go. In other words, there goes my steady income which provided the finer things in life such as rent and food, not to mention regular manicures and eyebrow waxing.

So this is the point where most sane people would panic. Right? Well, obviously I’m not sane. As I cleared my desk and gathered up my office essentials (green tea bags, flu swabs, contact lens cleaner), my thoughts were already racing ahead to my sunny future. I was on vacation! I would finally have the time to get my freelance business off the ground! My phone would be ringing off the hook with offers of employment! I could spend my days cleaning and cooking and doing laundry and being the perfect wife! See? Insanity. Instead of speeding directly to the unemployment office and securing my rightful benefits that would ensure continuing salon appointments, I instead headed directly to my local wine and spirits establishment, stocking up on my favorite Pinot Grigio. A girl’s got to drown her sorrow, er, celebrate in style, right?
         
Which brings us to day four of my, uh, hiatus. The Pinot Grigio bottles are empty. My house is still a mess. Clients haven’t been knocking down my door to procure my freelance services, nor have the employment offers been pouring in. Okay, I haven’t even been asked in for an interview. And my nails need a fill and my brows are looking a little bushy. Some vacation. I know what you’re thinking. This is the point where most insane people would panic. Obviously I’m not your run-of-the-mill insane person. In fact, maybe I could be a case study for a new strain of psychosis. I could get paid for being a lab specimen! Scientists will marvel over my ability to avoid the obvious - I’m unemployed, broke, and have no immediate prospects.
         
But while sane people might dwell on the obvious, creative lunatics such as myself concentrate on seeing the wine glass as half full - with the promise of new freelance opportunities, the promise of working for a kinder, gentler boss (minus the schizophrenic better half), and the promise that everything happens for a reason. Was I really that unhappy in my job? Probably more so than I was ready to admit. Was it really a good idea to tell my boss that maybe it was “time I moved on”? Obviously not. He took me at my word and sent me merrily on my way. Am I suffering from panic attacks at the thought that I may not have funds for the next clearance sale. Never!

My wine glass is never empty, nor is the promise of what tomorrow may bring. The world is my oyster and if there’s one thing this southern girl enjoys, it’s a nice fat steamed oyster on the half shell. Pass the hot sauce, please.