Of course, by the time The Wife got in, this had become ALL MY FAULT ... and it was all about how little money we have left, and how this was so important ... and that we were going to lose everything if I didn't get hired someplace over the next month or so. Yeah, just what I needed to hear. I don't know how much more I can do. I apply for every plausible job, I'm down at the Career Transitions Center a couple of times a week working with coaches and groups, I've applied to even hourly positions with all the downtown book stores, but NOTHING breaks my way.
But it's all my fault.
All my fault.
I'm the problem.
I'm the nexus of the failures.
I'm dragging us all down.
I somehow am not getting a job because ... what? I want us to end up on the street?
My fault.
My bad.
I guess it would all be better if I just weren't part of the equation any more.
Fuck this shit.