It could be YOU.

18 calendar days to go till full-blown unemployment. Already the edges of reality are frayed and flapping, fibers unraveling. My sanity's going. What does the future hold? Sleeping in till three pm? Forming the UnJob Club with Morgan? Stringing a web of yarn in the front yard, gutter to curb, chimney to neighbor's mailbox, and then perching in the upper corner on all fours, ready to pounce down, wind up, and devour the nearest warm being?