Back In The Game, Baby

I have spent most of today looking over what I can sell. The bank account is getting incredibly low and that feeling of living on the street anxiety had crept back into the skull.



Then at 4:56 PDT, I received an email. To quote: Are you available to work the rest f this week and next week?

Hm, let me think… Yeah, I think I am free.

So I’ll be trained and cutting segments for the next eight work days. That’s fuckin’ great! I won’t have to start selling anything off yet and I’ll make enough money in those few days to keep me floating for another month. Plus it could lead to more work with them and that’s not a bad thing.

Is it a dream job? No, but I’ll be an editor and that ain’t half bad.

It’s funny how that works. It always seems that I have to get down to my last few dollars before the universe decides to send some credit my way. How very Job. (That’s a biblical reference, pronounced Jobe.)

I’ve been granted a reprieve from the gutter. Or worse, living in Hemet.