Eight months have come and gone. This upcoming Monday, my freedom ends and I will be walking into an office at 9 o'clock in the morning. The feeling is bittersweet. Maybe more bitter than sweet actually. Yes, I've wanted a job for a while now; simply to be able to afford the things I cannot currently purchase such as a house, but now that I will have to walk into someone's office from Monday for the next thirty years sends shivers down my back. I need to keep my focus and think of this next year as my hustle period. After purchasing a house and possibly having some babies, I believe part-time work would be best for me. That is unless I can't control my spending habits in the 'Crewcuts' sections at J.Crew. (I went back-to-school - I mean work - shopping at the outlets in South Carolina and probably spent more on my little cousin's first day of kindergarden outfits than I spent on myself. Or maybe not.) With the hope of our future little one attending a free school, we should be able to afford my cut in hours. After eight months of space, I can't see myself running a nine to five, five days a week for the next 30 years.
Anyway, I'm going to try to breathe and soak in every moment of my slowly diminishing minutes of freedom. Most of all, I'm praying that I maintain my focus with my goal in mind. I have the tendency of getting real deep when I'm unsatisfied. Before long, I'll be in a crying stupor wondering why I wasn't made to accept the way of the world which is work, work, work. Sigh... I just finished a memoir about a man who bought and sold Birkin bags for a living (hilarious and entertaining book by the way - Bringing Home the Birkin by Michael Tonello) and what I'm going to take away from it is how important it is to "work to live and not live to work". I'm going to hold on to that with a clenched fist and see how this goes. Pray for me!