Certified Mail

As I pulled into the driveway last night, I saw a little brown paper stuck to the front door. Wedged in, half-way in and half-way out, was a slip from the post office. Nod has a certified letter. It must be picked up or signed for in person. We know what it is. We don't have even have to read it (but we will). Nod is being furloughed. Laid off. Sacked. He has about two weeks left. Wonder how much sick time we can use in those two weeks?

Good news: we get to keep our travel benefits.