March Does a Thing

The view from my desk.

So, I got a job. Surprise!!! I started earlier this month, almost one year to the day since my previous seven-year gig ended– they were downsizing, I was let go with a nice severance package, and I figured I’d make the most of the money-cushion. I really leaned into the freedom I’ve been missing for the past decade, what with that whole divorce / single mom / full time job / lengthy pre-pandemic commute situation. And 2021 was a particularly stressful year, both workwise and all the planning and execution involved in getting the kids set up in Maine and myself out here, not to mention everything happening in the world.

I learned some things about myself this year. One of the things I learned is that, as it turns out, I am terrible at not working. I need a project, goals, structure, a mission, something that requires my focus and attention for a significant percentage of my waking hours each week.

The first six months post-job were nice — museums, hanging out with friends, exploring the environs, going to Ireland, not having to be at work (or much of anywhere else) on a schedule. Then I started to get antsy. I kicked around various ideas, did some volunteer work, considered a part-time job which wasn’t feasible for various reasons, and decided to look for full-time employment again, based mostly in an office with other humans. Two years of full-time pandemic remote work was enough for me to know I loathe it. Yeah, the flexibility is great – do the laundry, walk the dog, go to the gym or medical appointments, meet the plumber, etc. But I live alone now and I’m enough of a people-loving introvert (is that a thing?) to need regular in-person interactions with others. One of my favorite aspects of my last gig was the collegial office atmosphere, and a fair number of my friends are people I met at work over the decades.

I’ll be honest – I’m not remotely career-oriented. My entire “career” has been a series of decent jobs I worked hard at only when necessary, so I could pay the bills, take vacations, and buy things like nice clothes and niche perfumes. I think I’ve had so many balls in the air for so long that I failed to grasp what would happen if I gained a ton of leisure time and an empty nest almost simultaneously. It doesn’t bode well for retirement but I’m not going to worry about that now. Maybe I’ll ease myself into it; who knows, maybe in another five years (which had always been my vague quit-full-time-work goal) I’ll be ready.

In the meantime? The place I’m working ticks all the boxes I laid out for myself before I started searching. I wanted: a workplace with a mission I find interesting, co-workers who seem pleasant and reasonably sane, good benefits including generous PTO, and some flexibility/nobody’s watching us clock in and out. I think I’ve achieved all of that with the bonus of an absolutely gorgeous workspace; it’s an historic estate, with all the funky old Santa Fe details. Seriously, when I went to interview and we did a tour, I had to stop myself from squealing and clapping my hands together like an amped-up toddler. We’re in the steep-learning-curve portion of the festivities but I think it’ll be okay. Also I’ve worn some of my odder Edwardian-punk clothes (paired with more normal pieces) and nobody batted an eye, so. It’s probably fine.

Why am I telling you all this? Because I’m surprised, more than anything. On the scale between driven and lazy, I’m more the latter. I thought I’d take to a year of leisure like a duck to water. But maybe it’s less about drive per se and more about routine and structure, I dunno. Do you need to have a lot of things going on in your life? Or maybe not a lot of things, but more of a regular routine?

Also PS I would love to write about fragrance on this fragrance blog. Truly, nothing would make me happier. But I dig bottles out and sniff them (or sniff new frags while out on the prowl) and my nose just ain’t right. I can sit down and cry about it, or … I can write about something else, so here we are.