Not-random aside: I've worked nonstop since I was 14 years old. I've always worked as much as was possible, even holding down two jobs in college to pay the bills and my own tuition. It started out as simply necessary, and became my modus operandi by the time I finished college and began working to save for grad school. And then there was grad school, and the postdoc, both are which are gauntlets in their own right. I immediately moved into a corporate position in the pharmaceutical industry (thus beginning my medical writing career) and was shifted upward through the ranks into management at breakneck speed. And then infertility kicked my ass like a tin can up and down the street. So I backed off, took another job working from home as a writer with no management responsibilities, and decided being a good worker bee would have to suffice. And then the baby came. And the job became harder-than-expected hard. And now I am three days away from being unemployed. As the kids say, FTW?
I've already had another potential job offer floated my way, which would be another full-time, work-from-home gig but with a smallish company I know a lot about (including a friend working there and another potentially taking a position there soon). This company has a strong reputation for treating its employees well and being flexible, so if I get a call about the job, I will seriously consider it. I just can't seem to fully wrap my head around the notion of staying at home and not working for a while. Does. not. compute.
Until then, I have my to-do list for Friday afternoon, and it looks like this:
- Call and make an appointment for a haircut (it's been moooooonths)
- Call and make an appointment for a pedicure (while my last paycheck is burning a hole in my pocket; my feet deserve to be treated like Sheen-esque goddesses minus the confusing Sanka brewing directions and the suitcase full of coke)
- Call and make an appointment to meet with a personal trainer (KB bought a 12-session package as a Christmas gift but I have had zero time to use it, so I've gotta start sooner than later to whip this saggy postpartum ass back into fighting shape)
- Call and make an appointment with my therapist (we haven't met in over a year and a half, but I feel like there's some work to do to get anxiety and stress dialed down under "11")
Back to pretending to give a shit for a little longer today. Three more days...