A Month Of Sundays
I'm well into Week #5 of the Perpetual Vacation, and still going strong. Granted, I have actually begun sending out resumes to prospective employers, but on a decidedly selective basis. I figure if I have to look for a job, I'm going after ones that: a of all) are ones that fit my experience profile (admin combined with arts/non-profit); b of all) are ones that I feel have room for advancement; c of all) have a reasonable chance of paying me a wage approximating what I was used to earning; and d of all) are ones where I feel I might actually make some small contribution to making The World A Better Place To Live. That's not too much to ask from a job, is it?
In the meantime, I'm getting lots of reading done, and seeing a fair amount of theatre, taking walks through my new neighborhood (when the weather isn't -- as it has been the past couple of days -- so miserably cold, wet, dark and windy that only tugboat captains, firemen, and ambulance drivers would be compelled venture into it), although these are activities in which I would have engaged regardless of my employment status. On the negative side, I'm burning through my cash reserves somewhat faster than anticipated, due no doubt to dubious purchases like bathroom remodels and arts auctions, but I just look at it as my contribution toward keeping the economic engine that is Capitalism the well-oiled machine that is the envy of Third World countries throughout the globe.
And, I'm giving my Frankenstein's Monster of a left index finger a bit of a workout on the side; feels good to get it back in action, although I can tell it's going to take a while to get full functionality back, even after the stitches are removed (tomorrow -- yay!). According to the documentation I was given on the night of the "accident", it can take up to a full year for lacerations to heal completely (although I doubt it'll take that long in this instance), so there's always a slight risk of me "popping open" through some series of unfortunate actions, which I will nevertheless heartily endeavor to avoid. Right now, however, the the annoyance factor is somewhat akin to having a particularly bristley nose or mustache hair that scratches you by pointing in or up instead of down or out, except that you can't just pluck it to avoid the discomfort of having it constantly poke you in the nostril or lip.
And before I forget, a hearty "Happy Birthday!" to KC, and to BK!
on 6:11 PM