Giving up the day job meant giving up that sense of security. Thinking about doing without, I recalled my sister’s security blanket, the one she couldn’t do without, an ugly old thing with holes.
Finally, she had to be five or so, my grandfather bought it from her. For five bucks, I think. In no time at all, she was so miserable, she wanted to buy it back.
My son went through a similar thing with his. I can’t remember how he finally gave it up.
That’s when I realized how strange that thing called security is. That old ratty security blanket, it couldn’t even keep you warm at night…
Bitch Rag 