I've always hated statistics.

I love words. I mean I LOVE them, with all capital letters. And as much as I love letters and words and sentences and paragraphs, that is how much I hate numbers and equations and all the specific and factual properties associated with them. In fact, my worst subject in college was statistics. I HATE statistics -- and now, my husband is one.

Mike was downsized from his job as a graphic/web designer/social media guru today. His job that he just started in August. His job that he really enjoyed. He was good at it; he could make telecom expense management sound interesting. Unfortunately, the company he was working for (until 1pm this afternoon) is struggling. Sales have been low, too low. Mike is not the first one they've had to let go. And he probably won't be the last.

He said his boss was unhappy having to let him go. She said it had nothing to do with his performance, just that she "is no longer being given the resources to fund his position."

I think we're both shellshocked, but not surprised. When Mike called to tell me the news this afternoon, I thought he was joking at first. After I hung up the phone, I went into full GO mode, making lists of things he needs to do, people he should contact. Then I put the list away. It can wait a few days while he catches his breath and processes it all.

This bitter pill has been made easier to swallow by the fact that they've asked him to turn in some proposals for freelance work. So there is some hope there. Another position he saw before the holidays (and considered with some interest before ultimately deciding he wanted to put his full effort into growing his impact at his then-current job) has been re-posted. He's already heard from a friend with a lead for some other freelance work.

So we're not devastated -- yet...who knows how we'll feel when the shock wears off. There is reason to be at least mildly optimistic. Plus, I still have my job and the few freelance blog writing gigs that I do each month.

And for the moment, we're finding humor where we can. When I picked the kids up from school today, Charlie asked if I could chaperone a field trip on a Tuesday morning.

"I bet Dad could do that," I said.

Then Robbie wanted to know if I was coming to school for 100s day.

"I think Dad might be there," I answered.

So I told them. "Dad was let go from his job today."

"Legos?!" yelled Robbie, our resident Lego addict. That was good for a laugh.

We'll keep looking for the laughs because they feel good -- and because you can't quantify them with statistics.