The Destroyer Reveals His Form

Laughing yoga takes on a whole different feel when you have just learned your income is going down by 33 percent.
Yes. 33 percent. The Destroyer has come.
Actually, the day got off to a pretty good start. I did the bills and we ended up a little better than usual. That plus the fact that we're making a dent in the credit card (which was driven up last year by--believe it or not--our late dog's medical care) put me in a more hopeful, less scared mood.
It was when I was driving to the grocery store that I got the call. Mike's employer, the Kansas City Star, wanted him to come in.
This could not be good. I had to turn around and bring the car back (we have one car) so he could go downtown. When we met at the house, we resumed our traditional roles of optimist (Mike) and pessimist (me.)
Me: Oh God. You're still don't think you'll be laid off?
Him: No. I think they like me. I bring in readers. It's probably about the pay cut. Maybe they're rearranging and I'll have to work more from downtown.
Let me insert here that we'd gotten an official email warning us that people below a certain pay level would get a 5 percent pay cut. Others might get more. We fit easily below the 5 percent line.
Me: You sure we can handle the pay cut? What if it's more? What if the email was a complete lie?
Him: I'm below the limit.
Me: If they make you work downtown how will you get there? We'd probably have to put up for a second car. Or I'll be stuck here with no car. (Trust me to always think of myself.)
Him: Let's not get three steps ahead. It will be okay.

Later he called back with the grim news. A pay cut of 33 percent. Full time to part time. No more life insurance benefit. No more vacation days. Accept it or take a buyout. But if you accept, there may not be another chance for a buyout. No promises. You have until Wednesday to decide.

Now, I was all prepared to be stoic about a 5 percent pay cut. I wasn't happy to lose the equivalent of two years, but I figured with some more piano students and perhaps monetization of this blog, maybe we could swing it temporarily. But 33 percent. Holy @*&# shit! Nothing in the email said anyone would get a 33 percent pay cut or that anyone would be knocked back from full to part time. And there's no way--no possible way--that my piano teaching can make up even half of what we're losing. Forget the two-year setback. Hello 1997.

And so, only 20 short minutes after pressing a cold cloth to my swollen eyes, I found myself driving my daughter and her friend to laughing yoga. I had promised.
It wasn't so hard to fake laughter. I'll probably be doing a lot of that in the future, so I guess it doesn't hurt to practice now. But...I don't know. It was different. I felt good afterwards, like before. Just not content. Not at peace. Not connected to the resonant good vibe of the past sessions. Maybe it's the shock.

Yesterday I vowed we are going to live not just good but better. We are not going to be just happy but happier.

Today that seems like a pretty tall order.