I’m a Hot Potato With Sour Grapes and Chides
I haven’t been feeling myself lately—though I probably should, as it’s bound to make me feel better—but ever since I got that 60-day notice to move out, I feel as though I’m treading the Pacific. For every two steps forward that I take, I get pushed back one and three-quarters. From 1996 to 2001, I changed jobs every year, and now that I’ve been at a stable job for almost three years, I annually find myself in a new living…