I complain about my job a lot. And deservedly so, I suppose. The whole thing’s quite silly if you ask me and I’ll be the first to admit that they should never have hired me in the first place; I’m not the admin assistant type.
Nevertheless, there are good things to come of this. My health insurance starts this weekend. (AND Krystal is due to have her baby AND the Greenwood Public Library opens. The 29th shall be a magical day.) Along with that comes the fact that, on days like today, I have absolutely nothing to do. So I read. A lot. I made it through a revision of a paper I wrote in grad school (that I’m trying to turn into a presentation proposal for the PNWCA Conference that’s coming in April), fifty pages of a Ron Rash novel that’s been on my list of Things I Must Read Soon and I got to read Anthony’s story–what he’s written of it so far, anyway. It felt really good to get so much accomplished, even though I do feel quite guilty for doing it on the clock (but what’s a girl to do–twiddle her thumbs? count ceiling tiles?). More to the point, it felt good to be back in the habit of doing stuff I want to do–stuff I need to do, the stuff that moves me a bit closer to writing.
Right now I can feel the shell starting to crack a bit. There’s a little more room in here. I can wiggle around, I can see a bit more light. I feel like getting back into my novel.
Of course, we’ll see what happens from here. I’ve had similar feelings before and have managed to do Absolutely Nothing. But making the claim public makes the feeling seem a bit more real. I like that.