I do not believe in omens.
Really, I don't.
What I wrote a few weeks ago was a tale of connections and coincidences, nothing more.
At about the same time as I wrote that blog post, I gave notice of my intention to quit my day job. The reasons were many, some practical, some irrational. I had been doing this work for six and a half years, and that is longer than I had ever remained at any other paid employment. My tenure was not due to the lavish pay (I can't even laugh at the absurdity of that notion) or working conditions (I worked at home); I stayed as long as I did because I needed some income and because this was a job where I never had to interact directly with real people.
I do not always get along well with real people.
Perhaps that has been one of the attractions writing has always held for me, too. In the world(s) I create, I can control the things that are uncontrollable in the real world, and I do not have to deal with the frustrations that sometimes overwhelm me here.
So today was my first day after the end of the day job. I still feel overwhelmed by how much there is to do in my real life that I had not been able to do because of the day job. I feel as if I want everything done, right now, today, and yet I know that isn't remotely possible. One day at a time, I remind myself, because I'm no longer rushed, no longer trying to squeeze ten hours of productivity into two hours of free time.
I began this morning much as I always do: Rising early and checking the email. But early is no longer the crack of pre-dawn. I got enough sleep and didn't feel the pressure to get right to work. I did have an Etsy shipment to take to the post office, so I packaged the orders and set out shortly before 9:00 a.m. And because the post office is just around the corner from the local municipal complex, I finally -- eight and a half years after moving here -- got a library card.
My personal collection of reading material is more than enough to keep me occupied. What I've lacked, though, is the time to read. It doesn't matter that there are 2,500 books in the house, 3,300 more on my Kindle, another 800 or 1,000 in boxes stored in the workshop. There is no such thing as having enough books, let alone too many.
But it takes time to get a library card, time to go to the library, time to browse the books, time to check them out, time to read them and then return them. I didn't have the time. Now I do. So I got my library card and checked out two books.
Then it was home to the work of having a life again. I had more listings to post to Etsy -- that will be a major on-going project -- which meant photos to take and edit. I didn't have to rush through the process, however, because there will be more time tomorrow, too. I can experiment with light and backgrounds, indoors or outdoors. I can edit the descriptions of my wares rather than slap something together and post it as "good enough."
Did I address the cleaning that needs to be done in my studio? No, not yet. Maybe tomorrow.
Did I even look at the mountain of sewing that awaits? No, not yet. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day.
Did I read? A little bit. Not much, but I'm in no rush.
Did I write? Ah, that's what the evening is for!