I stepped on the scales this morning.
I had dreaded doing it and had actually pushed the scales off to the side at an angle so I could not just step on them. I’d have to drag them out away from the wall and dresser to be able to weigh myself. That was enough extra effort to have to go through to keep me from doing it for the past few weeks.
But after struggling to get the button on my largest pair of jeans through the slot yesterday, pinching my finger in the process, I knew it was time.
There’s something about cooking your own food. Very thankful I had a mom who shared her kitchen knowledge.
The call came on the last day of my vacation.
“Hi Jeff. It’s ….. I guess you know why we’re calling.”
Hmmm. To tell me you’ve missed me?
To say take another couple of days off. You’ve earned it after all those years of working the night shift, extra hours and no sick days.
Just to be nice and say hi?
“No. Not really,” I answered. But I knew it couldn’t be good. In 16 years I had never received a good call. Same as most of my peers.
“Well, we’ve had to make some moves and we’re letting you go. We appreciate everything you’ve done for us, trying to keep us whole and ……”
I didn’t really hear much more. The rest was less about my new circumstances and more about his. Something which I really didn’t care about at the time.