Apparently my uncanny ability to do everything at exactly the wrong time hasn't dulled a bit during my stint of unemployment. Am I surprised by this? No, not really.
I went to the ol' prison today. You know, to ask to be re-imprisoned. I went to them with my hat in my hand, as it were. Begging, essentially. And you know what they told me? That in the past two weeks they've hired like three people. Including one for the position (and the desk/window/view) that I was sort of dying to have there. Ummmyeah. Do I want to vomit? Why yes I do. And cry? Yes that also. I had to stop myself from crying in the elevator down because some dumb dolt got on one floor below me, and now I just can't work it up again. So it's sitting there, just beneath the surface.
I suppose it's not completely hopeless; they loved me there. Apparently tomorrow the partners are having a meeting about staffing - so in that my timing was dead on. At least two of the partners in my department still think I'm the best thing ever, so maybe... maybe... maybe what? They'll invent a job for me? I don't know. It seems like every single desk or space that could possibly hold a human being is occupied - that place is bursting at the seams. So yeah. I really don't know.
All I know is that I want to cry, and then vomit, and then cry some more, and then never get out of bed again. I just took a chance on the last bit of hope that I've been clinging to, and... well... now I'm sort of rifling through the shattered remains of that hope, trying to see if there are any shards big enough to make them worth keeping.