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Happy F*cking Christmas

The Doc got laid off yesterday. This is yet another of those times when he should be bowing down and tongue-kissing the English soil he lives on. While he may be out of a job, and London has kicked his arse so much that he's become a walking example of Murphy's Law (forced to move five times in a year, jacket containing keys, mobile phone and passport stolen, hit by a fucking VAN and breaking both wrists, and now a lay-off), he still doesn't have to worry about COBRA or it's alternative (being completely uninsured and having to risk getting sick and going into debit from medical bills), and their unemployment rate is really low now, and the unemployment benefits are still there in the interim.

He's going to move back north, which I think will be good for him. I'm trying to talk him into city living up there once he gets back on his feet too. And he's looking into going to school too, which I think would be fantastic. It would give him something to do (this is the guy who programs when he's not at work because he's bored) and help him in the job market. And I bet he'd love the mental stimulation.

Life, lemons. Make cocktails.

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