Hot on the heels of another weekend gone by, I sit here at my desk on a terribly routine Monday afternoon watching the storm dump buckets on the commuters outside. It’s been a stormy day inside, as well. After the excruciating debacle on Friday, I went home numb and in shock and incredulous about what had just happened to me.
The weekend brought little relief. Doc needed to be closely monitored (lest he lick his stitches out) and that meant he got to clean the house with me. I have discovered that my dog has a close affinity for bleach and Windex. Whilst cleaning the house the power went off for about 5 hours during which time I thoroughly lamented the fact that I had one item left to clean: the carpet. When the power came back on I was relieved and able to finish vacuuming before we headed off to Wes’ brother’s 30th birthday party.
I was still in shock, though, and felt very distant throughout the whole event. The Sunday sun arose and climbed high and shone onto a white landscape glittering with about 5 inches of snow. When that sun disappeared behind clouds and rain started to fall I was silently grateful for the fact that the snow was going away. It’s very frightening to be snowed into your house, with the power off, with no food. I finished my Christmas shopping online (with the puppy by my side!) and prepared for dinner. Our friends arrived right on time and we had a great evening (my crème brulee was perfect!) and I really started to feel human again.
Upon waking up this morning, however, the stress and dread that lay dormant during those few happy hours last night rose again and gripped me like the flu. I came into work on time and went through all the meetings that Monday has to offer. There have been several skirmishes today but for the most part it has been very quiet between my manager and I.
I did converse with my other manager, however, about how The Evisceration went and how I felt about the issues we were discussing. My therapist (whom I met with today) all but gave me permission to be bold and so bold I was. I frankly told him that I was not sure if this was the job for me. I told him that I liked both him and his wife (my other manager) very much but that I was not sure if I could give them what they required of me in this role. He appreciated my honesty and asked me to think about it and let him know.
Now that the proverbial cat is out of the bag I really have to think: is this the right job for me? I’ve thought about it long enough to know that I’m not leaving because this is a bad job. Rather, I’m leaving because of a poignant and decided difference in values. I simply cannot give my life to this job and I love my freedom too much to devote more than 40 hours per week to it. To some people, the opportunity to learn, develop, and grow would be very appealing. I’m not looking for that, though, and that’s why this may not be the best fit.
In all my wildest daydreams I imagine myself working from home and writing. If only I were getting paid to blog! Now there’s a job description: we are looking for someone to blog from home. This person is responsible for wearing SpongeBob slippers all day, drinking coffee as often as possible, and writing whenever inspired. The person in this role must spend all day looking on the Internet for inspiration and it is expected that this person develop a large expertise on a plethora of unrelated yet interesting things.
Seriously, sign me up.