by James Warren
It's 11:06 a.m. on another Monday morning. I sit and stare at the bookmark on my Web browser and contemplate collecting another week of unemployment. I'm not scared anymore. I click the link and smile that the government has another four grand with my name on it. I do the math in my head and realize that I can make it another six weeks, if I cut back on the lattes and matinees. I pull up my resume for yet another revision, but then I remember Oprah started 6 minutes ago.
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