I decided to start writing thank you notes to the various objects that are helping me get through unemployment. This edition is dedicated to cereal bowl.
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Dear Cereal Bowl,
I couldn’t help but notice today that we have daily exchanges, yet we never talk. Certainly you have heard of this terrible condition I have contracted – unemployment. While it is not communicable (don’t worry, I wouldn’t do that to you), I still try to take the time to thank those things that help me through, just in case I find a way to infect them. True, this is a terrible reason to thank you, but you are a cereal bowl, and until I put you in the sink, you have no choice but to listen to me.
Cereal bowl, I still remember the first day we met. I was lost in the Brooklyn IKEA, and you were anxiously sitting in the 50 percent off bin in the kitchenware section. You had clearly been unemployed for quite some time, but I knew those asymmetric, gaudy petals you had painted on the side were petals of love. So I grabbed you, and for $1.99, I released you out of the brinks of unemployment in a bit of foreshadowing into my own unemployed demise.
You have probably noticed that during these days of unemployment, I have been eating an upwards of 7 to 8 bowls of cereal a day. This is due to the fact that this strain of unemployment is particularly incapacitating, and my ability to do anything of quality, including make a damn sandwich, is gone. Nevertheless, you stand by my side as I eat my happy “I have an interview!” bowls of cereal, to my sad “I fucked up the interview!” bowls of cereal, to my uncertain “Was that an interview or a magazine solicitation?” bowls of cereal. For this, I thank you, cereal bowl. You were commissioned for a 1-2 project per day job, but you have mastered this 4-fold increase in work beautifully.
I also want to thank you for being such a great listener, cereal bowl. Most of my unemployment rants are expressed over a bowl of cereal. My hatred of The Economist for praising New York in creating so many jobs last quarter, my hatred of my piece of crap phone cutting out at opportune moments, my hatred of not being born five years earlier…basically my hatred of everything. Lucky Charms, Peanut Butter Puffs, and Cinnamon Toast Crunch have boycotted my mouth, but cereal bowl, you have stuck by my side! You know how much I love to moan about my life, and you are there for me! So thank you! But I do ask you to go easy on the snide comments about how I eat cereal meant for 10-year-olds.
With sugar,
Mala
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