About ten days ago, I heard from a former coworker who wanted to see me during an upcoming trip to Chicagoland. Through the vagaries of social media, her request to meet up with me and my old buddy Todd turned into a potential cluster fuck of people I hoped to see never see again.
After giving it thought, I realized that I just didn't feel like exposing myself to this. I was flattered that Donna remembered me so fondly and wanted to see me. But when the get together expanded to John ... and Jennifer ... and Michelle ... and Sara ... I broke quite a few eggs as omelette maker at that job. Not everyone appreciated my culinary stylings. Or, to put it another way, I hated those nutbags and they weren't that crazy about me. So I told Donna that I couldn't make it but was glad we reconnected on Facebook.
Oh well. It wasn't worth the agita. I'm glad I didn't go. I'm feeling vulnerable these days. Broke, fat, pimply. Stalled in my career. I'm still reeling over the canning of Kevin yesterday. Donald Trump addressed Congress. Sometimes cocooning is the only self-protective response.