Beware the Ides of March

Playing in the background: The occasional chirp of the cell phone, calling Danny Boy somewhere

If I were the superstitious type, I might just take the whole month of March and, I dunno, leave town or something. Maybe go logging in Canada or hop on a fishing boat off the west coast of Alaska. Luckily I'm not the superstitious type because if I were I'd say, what the hell is it with March and being unemployed?

Ah, tis to laugh, you may say. But consider:

• March 2007. Mass layoffs by the SBA, since of course, Hurricane Katrina's aftermath is all cleaned up and everything on the Gulf Coast is hunky dory. Jen's letter of layoff dated March 13, 2007.
  
• March 2008. Nothing happened to Jen job-wise, but her dad got into one heck of a skiing accident while hotrodding down a double diamond with his older brother. There's just never a dull moment around here.
  
• March 2009. Not content to merely be laid off once, Jen gets laid off a second time, on or about March 10, from the firm she went to after being laid off by the SBA. Luckily for her, she didn't go work for Countrywide like a lot of her ex-cow orkers at the SBA, since six months after the big layoffs, Countrywide promptly began laying everyone off and it would have happened a lot sooner (though, she admits, not in the month of March.)
• March 2010. Jen gets fired in a classic case of "kill the messenger syndrome" that she doesn't really want to go into. But seriously, it happened on March 8. Couldn't one start to get extremely superstitious just about now? Like maybe March is a dangerous month to be around? Look what happened to Caesar. And I'm not even talking about Julius, I'm talking about my cat. Well, okay, no, I'm talking about Julius. But Caesar was named after him.

I am once again looking for work. And once again we have proof that everything changes and nothing stays the same and that getting attached to something is the surest way to unhappiness and angst generally. That doesn't stop me from doing it, though. I can't imagine it stops most of us. Joan and I, for example, are both rather attached to having enough money. Not a lot of money. Just enough so that we don't have to worry about paying the mortgage and catching fish from the Trinity River for our evening meal. (Fish from Trinity = grossbuckets.)

So okay, if anybody needs a commercial litigation paralegal who's serene in the face of the usual pretrial nightmares and can juggle depositions, mediations, trial prep and research on the finer points of the rule against perpetuities while ordering out Chinese food and billing 140 plus hours a month, drop me a comment or a direct message, @jenstrikesagain on Twitter. It would help if you're somewhere in the vicinity of downtown Dallas but that's not an absolute requirement. Many Trinity River fish will thank you. Heck, I'll thank you, too.