mainsqueeze's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cutthroat Industry Urg. For the past week, I have had the most horrible hacking cough. It is a good thing that I am unemployed, or I would be contaminating food and making people sick left and right. I finally managed to get in touch with an operator at the unemployment office yesterday. When- If, rather- I get approved for unemployment benefits, I will be receiving $130 per week. I will be able to pay my rent and bills on that, and I can survive off of my stores of body fat until I can afford to eat again. I have been drinking capfuls of Nyquil every hour or so, and now I am feeling a little bit tipsy. I should just down the whole damned bottle and wake up when I am well and employed once more. Today, I learned that the dear old family dog is dying. He lived with my mother, but I still consider him mine, I guess. This dog saved my life once. I was fourteen then, still living in a nice big house with Mom and Lise and the Evil Stepfather. Evil Stepfather had just come home from work in a particularly bad mood. I was babysitting Lise, who was four, and a six year old named Elizabeth. I was lying on the floor of my parents' bedroom, watching tv, and the girls were in the adjoined bathroom, giggling and splashing in the tub. Dave- the stepfather- walked into the room and saw the cordless phone lying on the floor beside me. For some reason, he went insane. Within seconds, I was up against a wall, with my feet inches off of the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girls huddled in the corner, wrapped in towels. Dave was screaming and punching me and slamming my head into the wall. Things started to get fuzzy. The edges of the room turned black. When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on the floor, and Dave was holding his bloody arm in his hand. And Riley, my dog, was standing over me, snarling at him. Woah. A little bit emotional for me. Ha. Anyhow, Riley has cancer, and he will most likely be dead within months. And so it goes. 10:54 p.m. - 2002-09-13 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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