Right around this time last year, I said to one of my co-workers, "Two thousand eight. It's gonna be great!" And I meant it.
Obviously, in the context of the office in which it was said, I was dead wrong.
Now I'm unemployed, going broke and best suited for a job in a field where there are none.
Yet I feel really happy this morning. I went grocery shopping first thing, and I tallied each item on my cell phone calculator as I set it in the cart, the way I have for a couple of months now. I didn't make a single impulse buy. I don't have it bad. Not even close.
In the Great Depression, people sifted through garbage piles for food. Ivy League lawyers stood in soup lines.
Even that, I think I could handle.
But I have a hunch it won't come to that. This guy doesn't either.
Either way -- new job, or trash-can meals -- 2009 will be just fine.