|Will work for banana suit.|
I have a job. In fact, I have several that pay various amounts at no regular intervals. When it is good, it is so very good. And when it is bad, well it’s horrid.
I work part-time, freelance for several clients: three regulars, and four or five that come and go as needed. As they need me, not as I need cash. Usually, I’ve got a few pots going at the same time. Last week, several. This week, zilch.
Panic ensues. Because my part-time 20 hour a week gig has dwindled to 10, then 5, now… nothing. And the other 20 hour a week position is apparently on-call, and they’re not calling.
And Christmas is coming. And we have four kids. Usually five or six around the holidays, but that’s a different post. And we like the holidays. A lot.
Kid #4, our last true believer, has asked Santa for a professional yo-yo, Brazilian cleats, and a banana suit, and I know Santa’s dealing with massive layoffs and no bonus this year.
This is quite possibly kid4’s last Christmas 100% in, so I’m committed to not blowing it. Not because he’s the Boy, but because he’s convinced Santa can make it happen. With three beautiful teenage daughters now roaming the mall oblivious to reindeer food, I’m buying the frickin’ banana suit.
I just need to find the cash to do so. Fast.