2002-01-08 - 3:52 p.m.

And while we were waiting for the light to change, he took my hand and said, "I couldn't WAIT to see you again." And I said, "I know, me too." And we walked home, and found a perfect little bar on the way home, and went in to have a beer at the bar while we watched the snow fall out the window.

And we came home, and went to bed, and this morning he went to work late so he could sleep in with me, and we had coffee and breakfast together, and he went to work and I went off to meet Joanne to go to the unemployment office in Brooklyn. And everything is so good, and that's what my life is like these days. I almost can't believe it. It makes being unemployed a million times easier, as I feel safe and loved and secure, job or no. So that's part of my perspective on the joblessness.

And this morning, I went out to the class thing you're required to take in order to collect unemployment. ( I knew the computer sign up was just too good to be true) I was in the first group, and it went fairly quickly, stupid question-askers aside. But Joanne's class was a few minutes behind mine, so I waited for her in the lobby.

There was a card table set up with the name of a health-care provider for children. As there was no one else in the lobby, she asked me to sit behind the desk while she ran to the bathroom, and I looked over the literature. When she came back, a woman sat down at the desk. She was mid-thirtyish, and neatly dressed, with a leather-collared raincoat and a scarf and tasteful gold earrings. She was carrying a bag filled with paperwork and mailing envelopes, and I overheard her talking to the woman. This company provides children's health care for parents who are unemployed or living below the poverty line, at a sliding scale, some of it free. She was filling out forms, and answering questions, and she handed a form to the woman, who stood up to make a copy. And then she stopped and said, "which address is the mailing address?" And the woman replied, "The first one is the shelter."

The shelter.

I looked at her tasteful clothes, and her organized bag of paperwork. I watched her shuffle through the endless government forms required for assistance. Filling out forms to get her children medical insurance, and getting the paperwork delivered to a shelter. I don't know what her story was, although a million ran through my mind....lost the job on which she was living paycheck to paycheck, due to September 11.Lost her husband. Is in a battered woman's shelter, left with no skills and needing immediate assistance. And I tried to imagine what it was like, being her.

And of course, I couldn't. And I feel very very grateful for not being able to.

No job....big fucking deal.

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