The Problem With Superpowers

The problem with superpowers is that sometimes you forget you have them. Or at least I do. I have to be really careful with what I put out in the Universe, because it is likely to happen. Though, somehow winning the lottery and losing those damn ten pounds the wrong Pill put on me are exempt. Seems I have to work for those. Whatever. It's the thought that counts for me. Really. It's almost like I am like Wish Girl or Intention Woman. It's kind of spooky.

Last week was a rollercoaster of good news/bad news (though, not in that order). By the time Thursday rolled around, I got not only good news about progress on a writing project, but a job offer from a friend. I had decided to give notice to my day job on December 1st and start with her on the 16th. It was a plan. Life seemed to be working for me for a change. Celebratory fish tacos from Lilly's were bought for my co-workers, who have been so supportive through the highs and lows, though I didn't feel I could tell them why I was in such a good mood. Sometimes, you need to keep things a little close to the vest. You don't want to jinx the mojo. Jinx is my kryptonite.

Friday morning, I got up to go to my client's and, before I left, I Twittered: Getting ready for a major shift. All I meant was that I was ready for even more good to come. What I got was a phone call from the general counsel of the imploding company I'd been working for. He had to let me go. Right before pay period. Typical. The ass hat turkey that was my boss didn't even have the balls to do it himself. Also typical. Can you really be that much of a wuss and declare yourself a CEO? I think not. I had grown friendly with the GC. We all know we are in the same sinking ship there. At least I was being shoved off in a lifeboat. He explained how awful he felt and how hard this was to do. I was not at all surprised. I knew my salary level put me in jeopardy (and when I say that, I was not making bank...the turkey just prefers to pay third-world wages). The GC thanked me for being so nice about it. I refrained from mentioning that they were merely beating me to the punch. The only difference would have been that I'd have had the class to give two weeks notice. My severance package? An extra day's pay for that Friday. I know! Knock me over with a feather. What will I do with all that dough?

I sat there and smiled and finished my Friday client duties. There was something poetic about the whole situation. Then I logged on to Twitter and was reminded of my post. A shift indeed.

The problem with my superpowers is that they are inconsistent. Some things happen super quick, and others take ages. Either way, what I put out there is bound to happen. The date with Clooney is inevitable.

For the first time in over a decade, the keys on my chain are just mine (I keep my Friday client's in their own place). For the first time in six years, the emails on my BlackBerry are just for me. I don't have to punch a clock anymore. I can keep vampire hours. I get to go to the gym for two whole hours every day -- except for Friday (client) and Sunday (laundry) -- and so there will go those bloody ten pounds once and for all! Hurrah! I finally get my life back. My work-from-home-writer-consultant-freelance-independent-contractor life. And that's just super.