The calm after the storm
Finally, this season's trifecta has ended. Tomorrow marks the first work day of the year -- and my first work day in what feels like weeks. I have my to-do list all prepared. The question is, will I actually follow it?
The downside of self-employment is that one really has to employ oneself -- find a way (done) and persue it actively (iffy) -- to keep myself in food, health care, travel, shelter, clothing, books, shoes, and impulses purchases made on nights when I have insomnia and an overwhelming interest in e-bay's offerings.
Staying up nights can be a very expensive proposition for this insomniac. ("More drugs, more sedation, better meds," alice says.)
As a child, no one ever suggested I would need to earn, dare I say, money, in the world. In my house, no one suffered for lack of material possessions or the prospect of changes in venue. I was raised in a pre-feminist household, where girls were brought up to be Ladies, while someone else dealt with the substance of, say, the bills or any upkeep beyond the personal.
Yes, I was brought up in a fictional world, whose underlying facts were illusory. In that world, a honeymoon was the trip you took to Europe after you got married. I couldn't imagine where else one might go. In that world, the closest a Lady came to mentioning money was to say "charge it and send it to the house." Real life did come as a rather rude surprise.
Winter vacations, we went to Haiti; summers, Lake Placid. Both places are too fraught with memories for me to return there.
Yet what is not fraught with memory? TCP thinks he's never had so much press as in my blog, and that maybe I'll make him a folk hero of sorts. A very strange sort, I would venture, given how I've presented his foibles.
This time of year I am nostalgic for what could have been, and I remember what never happened.
The downside of self-employment is that one really has to employ oneself -- find a way (done) and persue it actively (iffy) -- to keep myself in food, health care, travel, shelter, clothing, books, shoes, and impulses purchases made on nights when I have insomnia and an overwhelming interest in e-bay's offerings.
Staying up nights can be a very expensive proposition for this insomniac. ("More drugs, more sedation, better meds," alice says.)
As a child, no one ever suggested I would need to earn, dare I say, money, in the world. In my house, no one suffered for lack of material possessions or the prospect of changes in venue. I was raised in a pre-feminist household, where girls were brought up to be Ladies, while someone else dealt with the substance of, say, the bills or any upkeep beyond the personal.
Yes, I was brought up in a fictional world, whose underlying facts were illusory. In that world, a honeymoon was the trip you took to Europe after you got married. I couldn't imagine where else one might go. In that world, the closest a Lady came to mentioning money was to say "charge it and send it to the house." Real life did come as a rather rude surprise.
Winter vacations, we went to Haiti; summers, Lake Placid. Both places are too fraught with memories for me to return there.
Yet what is not fraught with memory? TCP thinks he's never had so much press as in my blog, and that maybe I'll make him a folk hero of sorts. A very strange sort, I would venture, given how I've presented his foibles.
This time of year I am nostalgic for what could have been, and I remember what never happened.
posted by alice, uptown at 3:20 PM
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