Unemployment Object Memoirs: A Tribute to Contact Case

I decided to start writing thank you notes to the various objects that are helping me get through unemployment. This edition is dedicated to contact case.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Contact Case,

How are you? Sorry I missed you today…I neglected to wander more than 20 feet away from my bed, so I didn’t feel the need to put you in my eyes this morning. I believe this was a wise decision, given the fact that my contacts are so worn down, I need to push them back up to the center of my eyes every 20-30 seconds. Nevertheless, you and contacts are doing a fantastic job of keeping me from running into walls, knowing the difference between a dead rat and a purse, and staring blindly at wallet hoping some money magically appears.

You even help with my latest endeavor – proving to myself that other degrees are a bigger waste of money than my Masters. For instance, with the service you provide, last night I conned scissors into helping me give myself a haircut. Beauty school? Rip off! I admit my attempts to prove that lumberjack school, firefighting school, and medical school are wastes of money were met with limited success, but at least we showed that bus driver school is a superfluous certification!

Contact case, I won’t lie to you. These past few months have been rough. Last week, Facebook told me that guy in my undergrad Econ 101 class who thought the term “Demand Curve” is slang for “buttocks” just landed my dream job. How this keeps happening, I don’t know. But in these situations, my first instinct is to dramatically run out the door, get into a car, and drive. Until I get hungry. After eating, my instinct is to keep driving until I get hungry again. At then after eating again, my instinct is to keep driving until I get hungry again again. And then after eating again again, my instinct…well, you get the point. So why don’t I do this, contact case? To be frank, the reason is you. Despite the fact that thousands of you are manufactured every year, you, contact case, are the one damn thing no one EVER has when I spend the night. I read one time in a magazine that may or may not have academic merit that contacts meld to eyeballs after 38 hours. That would suck. So I stay, for you.

In essence, contact case, you are the reason I do not spend copious amounts of money on gas trying to prove a point to people who probably wouldn’t notice I am gone. In essence, contact case, this is not that big of a point. Damnit. But I do appreciate the work you put in. Without you, I would still wear glasses. And man, do I look ugly in glasses!

I’m hungry,

Mala