I May Be Allergic To Jobs

Let's review.

Moved up here on 10/31. Quit my job on 11/13. Enjoyed 2 and 1/2 months of serenity - no job. Snagged more employment in early February. Quit that job in early March. Enjoyed almost two more full months of serenity. Snagged another job late April. And here I sit.

When we first moved I was a fucking madman. Exercising my ass off, eating better, drinking less - I lost so much weight (I doubt my brother believes that) Carol continuously commented on it. And I enjoyed looking in the mirror. Previously, mirrors were anathema to me.

I felt good about myself.

Lost all control when I started Job 1. Holy shit - barely exercised, drank a whole lot of whiskey, gained fucking weight, slept like shit, ate crap. I instantaneously went from Superman to Derelict Boy.

Started Job 2. In the lead-up to it I regained some control. Not much, though. I have spent four days in indentured servitude and I am completely out of control. Again. Of course, the schedule is kind of a second shift kind of thing, so timetables are off and equilibrium is disturbed, but still.....................

I instantaneously went from Deadpool to Supreme Derelict Boy.

I hear David Spade, like in Tommy Boy, whispering in my ear...................."I can actually hear you getting fatter."

Only one conclusion is unassailable........................I am allergic to jobs. So I need to stop working.

Think about it. When I am unemployed I could sit around the house eating Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies by the dozens, and drinking Ten High Bourbon and PBR's, but I don't. I exercise like a fucking madman. I eat cauliflower with Catalina salad dressing on it for afternoon snacks. I drink two or three less quarts of whiskey a day.

BUT when I am working I exercise inconsistently and with much less heart. I pig out on whatever the hell I want to pig out on, and in massive fuck you quantities. I drink much less water, I stay up later and get a lot less sleep. If I was more determined, I would smoke crack, snort coke, and inject heroin.

I have always rebelled against employment; seems like a horrific waste of my time. But since I have recently tasted periods of freedom leveraged aginst a less crushing financial burden, things have really gotten out of control.

Not working: Cauliflower, exercise, pride, commitment and follow-through.

Working: Whiskey, junk food, sloth, and broken promises.

I have a debilitating disease. The only solution is perpetual unemployment. 

This is a cure I can wholeheartedly embrace.