Where to start.
Like millions of other people, I’m currently unemployed. Unlike a good portion of those collecting unemployment, I was laid off before COV-19 really ramped up in the U.S., so I’ve been twiddling my thumbs since back in February.
Ah, February. I was so naive and hopeful then. Freshly free of a toxic workplace, I had nothing but options in front of me. A healthy savings account. A lease that was up in a couple months. A laundry list of places I wanted to travel before committing to anything long-term.
And then the other shoe dropped. Or, maybe it’d be more appropriate to say that the avalanche began.
I couldn’t do anything before successfully enrolling in Massachusetts’ unemployment insurance program. (It was a headache to get through then, so I can only imagine what it’s like these days.) I needed to get health insurance, somehow – this ended up being a two-hour appointment with a counselor and we still hadn’t finished everything by then. (I work two part-time jobs in addition to the full-time one I was fired from, so there was a lot to fill out. To make things even more complicated, both of those jobs were recently bought by other companies, so none of the names and addresses lined up with my paystubs. Good times.) To this day, I don’t think I actually have health insurance, which means that I also had to discontinue my biweekly sessions with a therapist I’d been seeing. (Three cheers for lifelong depression!)
Alright, two things handled. On to my lease. About nine months ago, I was told that I wouldn’t be able to extend my lease again once it ended May 1st, because my landlords wanted to rent out my basement studio together with the first-floor apartment. It didn’t make sense then and still doesn’t now. ANYWAY. I checked that this was still their plan and – hey-o! – was told, actually, if I wanted to, I could renew the lease. I asked if I’d be allowed to sublet to someone else briefly, since I wanted to do some extensive traveling for a bit. Denied.
At this point, the Coronavirus was spreading rapidly each day. A lot of my potential travel destinations were being affected and I kept having to rethink my plans.
Plans. Y’know what they say about God and plans, right? Get ready to laugh.
At this point, I’d been searching for another job in Boston for close to a year, so I wasn’t feeling too optimistic about my chances of landing something permanent (and enjoyable). The thought of committing to another year in this soul-crushingly expensive city, and paying for that empty apartment, and then likely still being unemployed… Not great.
So I pivoted, thinking I’d just put my stuff in storage once my lease ended and bump around for awhile. I picked up a couple freelance projects while this was happening, and figured I’d stick around until the end of my lease, and then head out of town.
Days passed. The virus spread. Anywhere international started to seem like a bad idea, though I was still sorely tempted to split to Oaxaca. My friends continued to encourage me, my parents continued to freak out. Things started closing. Entire cities were quarantined. (My cousin in Milan has been stuck at home longer than anyone else I know. I’d feel bad for him, but apparently he has an Italian boyfriend living with him who also cooks, so… lucky bastard.)
My in-house freelance project paused when Boston ordered businesses to close. The other remote projects dried up, too. I was back to sitting at home with nothing to do, because any events or classes I’d signed up for were canceled, too.
At least there’s the gym, I kept telling myself. I’d show up each day, dutifully wipe everything down, and give nasty looks to anyone who tried to set up their mat too close. And then even the gym closed, too.
Faced with the thought of being stuck in my small basement apartment, alone, for who knows how long, I did what any desperate entitled person would do: I bought myself a $22 one-way ticket to Florida, where I’ve been staying with my parents for the past three weeks.
Rest assured, I’ve been taking plenty of notes for my future screenplay. And since I no longer have therapy, I guess I’ll be writing in this blog more. Get pumped.