So today's a year since I quit my job at a local sign company, walking away without fanfare and a box of stuff from my desk into snow, and then moving a couple of days later. It occurred to me a couple of days ago that they would still have to send me a W-2 for 2010, yeah? For that one week?
I've been out of work for a year. A bit of misinformation in there, actually, since I've been doing some freelance work in the meantime, and that's been good for grocery, vacation, and some Christmas money. Of course, my primary job of work has been to shepherd my daughter along in the acquisition of pre-K skills, sometime before this Fall. On my watch, she's potty-trained, can read, count, joke, and has everything every list says she needs to start school. And I learned to cook (though that process is certainly ongoing) for four and sometimes five people. We took in C's brother briefly, and C's dad for four months now. It's been a good time. I get up before 6am every day, I cook, I clean, I volunteer, I write, I still do layout, and I try to get something active or enriching or both in almost all of Abby's day, every day. Doesn't feel like not working.
I miss some stuff about my old job; some of the people I worked with...okay, three. Three people I miss, and they probably know who they are. Lunch breaks. More often than not, I eat lunch in 15 minutes or less standing up in my kitchen before I move to the next activity. My iPod. I don't use it anymore, because it's impractical to my situation. I have be alert and listening to a 4 year old. All the time. So that's a year of CarTalk and Dan Savage and Ira Glass I really haven't heard. Money. That used to be nice.
Things I don't miss? Well, everything else. I don't miss the petty, loud, pointless, stupid conversations masquerading as productive adult interaction. Meetings. I always hated those. Deadlines. I actually had a poster up that had the dictionary definitions of "deadline" up in our shop. Mostly, though, not having to associate with most of the people I used to associate with. Toward the end, it had gotten quite ugly with the unfounded accusations and the backstabbing, and the trash-talking and the pressure, and I'm glad I left, and so are they, I suspect. So these things, they work out.
And by the time I go back to work, I would imagine I'll be ready for that, too.