Adventures in Unemployment

When I started this blog last August when I got laid off, I didn’t stop to think about how long it might last. I wasn’t sure if I’d get bored of it, and I was certainly hoping I’d get to Day 20 and be like “omg everything is fine! I found a new job with better benefits and higher pay” and drop this blog like a hot potato. And then I hit a month. Two months. Three months. Triple digits. At each milestone, I panicked about the mistake I had made to title each post with the number of days I’d been unemployed. I was so scared about eventually reaching 200… 300… 365… But finally, a job offer, and I reset the counter for a short 10 (ish?) days until I started the job. Then I reset it again on Day 1 of the new job, and decided the naming convention was once again Future Stephanie’s problem. So far, she has figured out everything else I have thrown at her, so she seems fairly responsible. I trusted her abilities. But yesterday on Day 131, as I wrote about brunch for today, Future Stephanie was...

At the beginning of the year, I read some articles, mostly opinion pieces, about how Americans don’t party enough anymore. I don’t remember specifics, so don’t ask, but between the loss of “third spaces” and the pandemic and the rise of social media, etc etc, we just don’t gather like we used to. Gen Z is also apparently not really drinking? But more for the millennials, so whatever. There is also a loneliness epidemic. While I do think this is mostly men who feel this, there is an entire section of the population who don’t feel like they have a close friend to call for emergencies or if they needed support. I’ve also written, I think a couple of times now, about trying to be a better villager; to be the kind of villager I want in my life. (I’m still a work in progress, but I’m trying.) So anyway, to the point, Stephanie. What I’m saying is: we need, want, and deserve more human connection. Tomorrow morning, I’m having some friends over for brunch. It’s a bit of a gamble - they mostly ...

Is it weird to have a favorite kind of shower? Not like a baby or bridal shower, but like, a shower shower. You know. There are lots of kinds of showers. If you’re a dude, you have the “Here is my one product that does everything” kind of shower, and the “I have two products now because one is for hair.” For ladies, we have regular shower, hair wash days, and the “everything” shower. Sometimes you’ve sprained an ankle and the shower is “how long can I stand on one foot?” In college, one of my friends and I admitted to having the “I’m crying in here so no one can see me” kind of shower, which still occasionally makes a comeback. I’ve had the “I’m hungover and need to sit down” shower, and also the “how the fuck am I supposed to shave in here” vacation shower. But today, I got to take my favorite kind. I don’t get it a lot in this part of the country, so I savor it when I can. It’s the “post-Summer day refreshing” shower. The ideal day that leads to this delightful summertime shower is b...

My farmers market is the number one market in the country. No, I’m not kidding. So while I’m sitting in the shade of one of the municipal buildings, waiting for my husband to come back and pick me up, I figured I had some time to write. The irony is that I only have things to write about because I set my phone down for a minute or two, but now I’m writing this from my phone. What are you gunna do? There was something really great about wandering around the market this morning. The smell of fresh pastries and kettle corn. The variously behaved children. Easily distracted puppies. The colors of the flowers. The possibilities of the lettuce bowl I haven’t killed yet. Berries waiting to sit alongside cake, yogurt, or whipped cream. Potatoes awaiting their destiny to be the best part of any meal. Neighbors and friends running into each other. The Bills and Sabres (especially Sabres) gear everywhere. It was the perfect kind of (almost summer) morning. I got started early, but not too early, ...

Let the record show... I don't know what I'm doing. Oh, you probably need more details, don’t you? The number of things that I’m clueless about is truly limitless, but today is specifically about gardening. But did that stop me from trying my hand at growing veggies again? No, it sure did not. I am going to add some pictures of me starting my seeds this weekend, but please do not comment if you notice that I did something wrong. Especially because you absolutely will notice that I did something wrong. I don’t know what that thing is; otherwise, I wouldn’t have done it, but I’m sure experienced gardeners will find something. And I don’t wanna know what that something is. Last year, I grew more tomatoes and zucchini than I could possibly eat by myself with absolutely no planning or research. I just went for it. So I’m going with that method again this year, and if I spent $30 on supplies and seeds for what ends up being no yield and just a few days playing in the dirt and not loo...

I apologize in advance. This rant is so long, it took 2 days to write. When it is time to look back on my life - whether it is next week while I've cornered someone new and unsuspecting at a party, when I write my memoir, or when it is finally my time to pass - please know I see my firing from Independent Health as my villain origin story. Oh. Sorry. I was "laid off." Whatever helps Dr. Cropp sleep better at night. When I started at GEICO in 2017, Independent Health just so happened to be the cheaper of the 2 health insurance plans that were offered to us in the Buffalo office. Check. Done. When my husband and I got married in 2019, he came onto my plan because whatever the price difference, it was basically a wash because I had a better plan. This didn't really have anything to do with Independent Health, since that is also who my husband had, but just that GEICO had more employees than his company, so they could negotiate a better price. Each year, I would look at t...

It is 12:25pm, and my grand to-do list for the day is shot. I’m throwing myself a little pity party, which seems appropriate because I just fell down the stairs. It sounds dramatic when I say it like that. I guess what really happened is that I tried to get to the bottom faster by skipping the last step. In my defense, the last step was hidden by the blankets I had just thrown down the stairs, so I was sabotaged. Sabotaged by my own actions. This is obnoxious for a couple of reasons. First and foremost, it hurts. It hurt right away, and my colorful language definitely surprised the dogs. I hobbled myself to the couch where Poppy promptly licked my face while I was trying to catch my breath and decide if I was dying. She only gave up when she heard Amazon Man. I have since stood up to go do the load of laundry I was carrying when I was viciously derailed by my blankets, and my first step was like “oh, I’m being a baby. This isn’t so bad.” By the time I got to the washer, I was holding o...