Love in the Time of Layoff: Man Behind the Curtain

Note: Deborah Siegel was due to submit her post today, but her growing responsibilities in a rapidly developing venture have precluded her doing so. In other words— the twins are really kicking her ass. Despite being deep into the second trimester, her “morning sickness” hasn’t let up, and she is currently sitting up in bed with a cold compress on her fevered brow. She has thereby ceded the reins of “Love in the Time of Layoff” to me. You, dear reader know me as her house-husband, Her Man Godfrey, her Sancho Panza, her sometimes Bartleby. And now I’m honestly maybe a little too giddy with power. I am Marco.

Yes, I do exist… even as I eliminate the last traces of my existence in our little one-bedroom apartment.

I spent the afternoon yesterday dismantling my desk and bookcase and moving them out of our bedroom: we are staging our apartment yet again. It’s been on the market for months, and with a looming move to bigger digs in Park Slope we’ve redoubled our efforts to get it sold. New broker, new price, new priorities: we needed to let in more light and air, make the place roomier. It became obvious that my office away from work, my study and refuge from a crazy world, my anchor, was doomed. Into the boxes with my design books, my graphic novels and old Tarzan pulps. Reality beckoned…