I woke up this morning feeling different. I resolved yesterday to stop my schedule “slippage”, wherein I go to bed after 1am and get up towards 10am. Yes, it’s the scheduled I’m naturally inclined towards, but I don’t want it to be something I get used to and have to break out of when I go back to work (which, obviously, I’m hoping is asap). Plus, it feels… slacker-y, which bothers me. I have enough external reminders of my current status without providing myself with new internal ones.
That said, when Anatole climbed into bed and sprawled the length of my torso this morning, it seemed to be an important message that snuggle time was necessary, too. So we didn’t quite get up by 8am, but that was okay.
Anyway, from the time I got up, something felt off. My cadence of the last week, my ever-present and protean to-do list, felt stalled. I felt like I should be doing more, should have more to do. No one’s going to fix this pickle but you, m’dear…
Inevitable, really. I’ve been getting a lot done, all things considered. Searching for positions, working the network, asking questions, dealing with contacting issues, and trying to keep on top of housework and getting books read and back to the library and remembering to eat and all that. But busy as I’ve been, none of those things has resulted in a job yet, and while I know it hasn’t even been two weeks, any length of time is too long.
I’ve had a handful of setbacks, too, and it’s hard when your needed momentum takes a hit. Hard, too, when you don’t have a schedule — working within other people’s schedules is necessary, but frustrating.
Indecision set in, too. Would I do some ironing? Read some more of my book? Go for a run? The weather today is stunning, which made the decision even harder. Except towards noon, “feeling different” started to take a distinct down turn. Desperate times call for forcing one’s ass into gear, and, in this case, changing it up entirely.
So I showered, slathered on the sunscreen, and headed to the Humane Society. When you get thrown off track focusing on yourself… fuck it… go do something that isn’t about you.
And so I acquainted myself with Elvis, Oso, Jack, and Ralph. (The middle two of whom can be seen here, though that page needs updating. No Basset Hounds or St. Bernards to be had at the moment.) We walked, ran, sniffed and marked a good chunk of the Grand River Trail (I left the marking to the gents…) It helped. I got sweaty and slobbered on and forgot about marketable skills and bank balances for a while.
I’ll be helping my brother move this weekend, which should also provide good distraction and wear me out. Plus, being with him helps put things into perspective, too. He’s been in much worse job situations than I have. He knows there are jobs out there, and something will always come along, because it always has. Hell, he has so much energy and charisma that you can’t help but end up sucked into his sphere. And when you’ve spent too much time alone with the cat for a while, it’s probably just what the doctor ordered.