Magic, Mystery, a little Whisky, and a Cat

Be Careful What You Wish For

Scottish Nursery Rhyme

You know how I used to spend a great deal of time whining about my soul-sucking day job and how the only thing that kept me from writing multiple books in a single afternoon was the time I had to waste making a living? I begged my spirit guide to grant all my wishes so I could have time to pursue my true destiny.

Lady in black gown reclining on a sofa with a tired expression.
Artist’s rendering of my spirit guide trying to figure out how to make me shut up.

Well, dear friends, she came through with a bit of tough love and, as a result, I have reached that dreaded part of life called Put Up or Shut Up Time because the soul sucking day job fired me. A serious misinterpretation of the original text of my wish–or so I thought at first.

Downsized is what they call it. Shitcanned is what it is.

For the first time in over 30 years, I do not have to go to or log on to a regular job! I feel both liberated and terrified. Maybe those two things always go together in varying percentages.

It happened at the beginning of October, and it has taken me this long to come to partial terms with it—before I could get to a place where I look forward to what I can do instead of mourning what I used to do. Of course, what I’m really mourning is the regularity of that reality—the certainty of it. A very boring and lazy way to exist, really, but it served a purpose at the time.

Oh, I’ll still need to do something that brings in a bit of dough so I can continue to enjoy the extravagant lifestyle of a public-school teacher. And the entities to whom I owe money are sort of insisting.


I also have to mention that I’m sleeping like a baby for the first time in a long time and I’ve lost some tonnage as a result of being able to do yard work and exercise and take long walks—some more things I haven’t done regularly in a long time. Come to think of it–those things were part of my wish, too.

So keep an eye on me. I may implode or explode or maybe I’ll just have fun for a change and that may cause issues. I may take a permanent vacation from worrying and from doing things I don’t want to do which is the source of most of the worrying.


And I may burn a few bridges—or shall I blow them up? Maybe I’ll set off fireworks and send the neighbors a fruitcake and a bottle of wine for no reason at all.

I could sit on the porch and read poems about daffodils and revolution and play loud music with lots of drums.

Or I may do something bizarre.

Who knows?

Wish me luck.


What do you Think? Leave a Comment!

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.