 I quit my job back in March because it was crushing my soul. I guess, more specifically, my boss was crushing my soul and I just had to leave or one of us was going to end up dead. And it wasn't going to be me. Though leaving didn't actually make me wish any less death upon him. It just made it harder for me to do something about it, though perhaps not hard enough. The bad part about quitting, other than having no cashflow, is that I've gotten really used to not working. People always say they'd get bored not working. In fact, I used to believe this regarding myself. Not so. It's really really easy to fill up your day with so much nothing that you can't really fathom how you used to hold down a full time job and do everything else you "needed" to do. I've got a good schedule down. My dog wakes me up around 6 by jumping on the bed and licking my face. I get up and feed and walk him and eat breakfast and fart around. Around 8 I sit down and spend most of the morning looking for a job while watching something on Amazon Prime or Netflix. At some point I'll take a break and work out and eat and feed the dog again (he eats 3 times a day like a person because he's a puppy and he's spoiled). Though recently I've been fighting a chronic hacky sinus infection, so the workout has gone by the wayside. And then in the afternoon I'll either write or surf the web. I've decided to start writing some memoirs of my fucked up life. I'm guessing I'm the only one who will find this interesting, but it's cathartic. If you're interested, there's a new tab on my site linking to it (Batshit Crazy). What's interesting is that I still "work" (either write or job search) from 8-5, but only during the work-week, so I guess I really am a creature of habit... The other bad thing about not working (and living alone) is that it's made me even more reclusive. My desire to go out and do anything with anyone is close to zero. Actually it's negative. It's gotten to the point that they only time I venture out of the house is for perishable groceries (though I do A LOT of take-out) and dog food (my dog is on a special diet where I go pick up 60 pounds of frozen raw food every month; as I said: he's spoiled).  Anyway, the only real point of this blog post is say that I've updated my blog site AND I've started posting my memoirs. "Memoirs" sounds so arrogant and stupid, doesn't it? Maybe "chronicles" is a better word. "Batshit Crazy: The Chronicles of H3ather." I guess that's all I've got for now. Carry on... |
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