Its official, I will soon be laid-off.  Please insert the sounds of angels (aliens) and other angelic creatures singing and the immortal sounds of Imogen Heap setting up in the background.  Just thinking about it gives me both terror and the pinging tenterhooks that only sweet anticipation wrapped in the unknown can give. 

This, of course would be the only reason I would be up at this ungodly hour, writing my waxed poetry and thinking myself powdered with creativity.  What should I do with my soon, new freedom? 

Truth be told, I will most likely wallow in fear until I can make a real plan, which at the moment is becoming a paranormal investigator and inventing a loud enough petticoat that will cover up the sounds of the adult diaper I'll have to wear from the fright-peeing.  Oh the possiblities. 

Here is a picture of my cat.

Good night!