It's 2:47 a.m. and Rudy decided the furnace kicking on was an…

It's 2:47 a.m. and Rudy decided the furnace kicking on was an intruder, so here we are. Everyone else is asleep: Gary, both kids (who are grown and live here again, which is a whole other post), and now Rudy, who woke me up and went right back to sleep, which is also exactly what my mother used to do. I've been home from the burn for five weeks. I keep washing tea mugs that are already clean. My therapist says re-entry and the layoff are "stacking," which is a good word for it. The severance runs out at the end of November and then it's COBRA, and I opened the COBRA letter at the kitchen table and said a word that Rudy has now learned. I'm just going to say it: nobody should lose their health insurance because they lost their job. I spent nineteen years helping people sign up for benefits and I never once thought about what it felt like on this side of the table. Good things, because my therapist makes me list them. I pulled 205 again on Monday. My son watched. He can't. I applied to three jobs. I made a spreadsheet for next year that my daughter calls "Mom's Grief Budget," and it does technically balance if we skip going to my sister's for Thanksgiving. I miss serving tea at 3 a.m. to people who don't know my name. It's 3 a.m. now and I'm just serving it to myself. 🫖 Sorry, this got long.