I am counting heavily on an insightful and pithy post tomorrow from the resident Give-A-Shit political observer.
My husband is a commissioned salesman...for a reason. The boy could sell matches in hell while I, in my ice cube booth next to him, wouldn't even need a change drawer. The week before Christmas, his company laid off one-third of its blue-collar workers. He was devastated, not enough to talk about it but to mention it in passing, by the sight of those good people trudging out to their cars Friday afternoon with their belongings in cardboard boxes. This is a manufacturing industry in a rural Alabama town...those people have been there since the day they got out of high school and...they have no where else to go. No where.
And we sit here, still employed. Still comfortable and still afloat but hey...we are in our fifties with two elementary age children and if it can happen to the blue-collars, that MBA doesn't guarantee ANYTHING. We've been relying on Clinton money for the past eight years and as casual back-up, it's about gone. (I heard this same lament from a friend whose family owns a construction business in middle Tennessee...he had to sell his Savannah condo because he's out of Clinton money.)
And then I turned on the news tonight to listen to the weather and WTF? CitiBank is going down in flames? The housing market has a lot further (down) to go? Something economy-wise is worse than its been in 25 years? Something else...well, I tuned out about then. The ostrich thing.
So. City Girl. Save my world for me. I'm afraid to educate myself because I MIGHT PANIC!