It's March my dears and I celebrated by "borrowing" my sister's debit card and using it to buy us tickets to the midnight showing of the Hunger Games. She wasn't even mad about the whole borrowing thing because I bought Hunger Games tickets with it, and who can be mad at that?
Since getting laid off last week, not a whole lot has happened. I mean, I feel like I should clarify that when I wrote my last post, most of the wallowing had passed. It was a very small window of wallow. I'm up and at 'em. I'm searching for a new job. I'm not sitting around in bed too much. I'm feeling like my usual self, thanks in part to all of your wonderful comments. Each comment was like an individually wrapped pack of two zebra cakes. I know that might seem like I'm exaggerating the importance of your comments, but no. They were each that delicious, and again I thank you guys for the support and encouragement.
You learn a lot about things and stuff when you have so much time to yourself, and more importantly, with your self.
Last night, at around midnight when I was dancing around in my room alone, thinking about how markedly NOT SLEEPY I was, I realized that not having a bed time is only fun if you know other people who also don't have bed times.
I've also learned that I'm quite greedy with my time. I can see people's eyes lighting up as I share the news that I am no longer employed. It's like their brain suddenly computes all the ways they can use you and all this free time you now have. I've been volun-told to do everything from baby-sit children to help with fundraising at church and I wouldn't be surprised if people started asking me to tend their freakin' gardens.
And, see, the thing is that I do have all this time, but I just really hate people making claims on it. Don't you worry what I'm going to do all day. It's my lots of time, thank you so much.
All the stuff I used to do when I was supposed to be working is suddenly not as fun now that I'm totally allowed to do it. I read 11 books in January, mostly while at work. I've been unemployed for just over a week and I'm all, "books? Meh." TV, Facebook, and blogging all have less appeal now that I don't have to disguise them with open Excel documents and stacks of paper on my desk.
I'm probably painting myself out to be the worst employee of all time.
I have this fear of running out of things to say. And it's not even like my job was a constant source of fodder; I tried avoiding talking about it and the people there. I just feel inactive. No matter how much I get up and go running (!!!), or clean out my closet or paint my nails or babysit my nieces or hoard votives from Yankee Candle, I can't shake the inactive feeling.
My family will be going up to Tampa in two weeks and a big chunk of our family from New York will be there. I don't typically get excited for visiting Tampa, but I am. Mostly because lately I just pout and people buy me stuff.
I try not to take advantage of my new super power, though.
I like all of your faces,