A Vacation From Unemployment

Well, we're coming up on the end of week three of my being unemployed, and so far I haven't managed to write a single blog post. I'm kind of sad that no one seems to be worried about me! But I'm fine. I could blame it on the fact that we don't have internet at home, which I'm waffling on whether we should get, but that's probably not the real reason. The real reason is that I'm unemployed, which is harder work than actually working.

But I'm taking a vacation from being unemployed today. No, today I'm not unemployed--I'm on vacation. Or taking a sick day. Whatever. Because yes, I am on my fucking period and my whole life I have wanted to be able to just take the day off on that dreaded Day One of menstruation where I am lethargic, bloated, tired, and writhing with cramps. But no, there has always been school or work or It's The Weekend And I Must Do Stuff. My last period Day One I had to spend the entire day packing and moving and trudging up and down the 3 flights of stairs to my old apartment approximately thirty times.

Today, my friends, I can take the day off. So far I have reorganized all the apps on my phone, deleted the ones I don't use and downloaded some new ones, and formulated plans to go to a fancy event at an art gallery alone tonight which I will probably end up not fulfulling because no one is counting on me and I am lazy. I have made eggs with the crumbly, salty Salvadoran cheese from the market up the street that I am currently obsessed with. Other than that, I have laid in bed. It is glorious.

This is the first time in my adult life that I've had both nothing to do and no prospects of having anything to do. Since age 18, I've gone from job to school to job and back again in an endless loop of productivity. But right now, there are no future plans for me except 1) I am going to California for Christmas; and 2) I am getting married in Wisconsin next August. Other than that, I've got nada. Zip. Zero. No job interviews, no social plans, no weekend visitors for whom I must prepare the house. No projects to complete, no papers to write, no briefs to file or status conferences to attend. No court dates. No lunch appointments.

But I still feel busy. Because I am unemployed, I feel like I must take care of everything else that is not working. I feel like I must plan the meals, I must do the shopping, I must assemble the IKEA bookcases, I must do the mountain of dishes that keeps on coming and coming and coming, I must do and fold the laundry. I must pay my bills on time and I must, above all, Take Care Of Business. Because there are no clients to call or meetings to keep or memoranda to draft, if I want to feel like I'm getting anything done I must always be sending faxes and sending out resumes and emailing people and networking and running errands of various kinds.

So yesterday I got my DC drivers license, which is unconscionably ugly, and got the car inspected. I did a huge shopping trip and bought a semi-boneless leg of lamb which I cooked up for dinner. I spent several hours trying to find a reasonably-priced flight to California (result: there are none). I certified my claim for unemployment benefits, which I will probably not receive because I worked for three days at a temp legal job which was well-paid and the most boring thing I have ever done. I wanted to lie about it, but papa don't play like that and I am not about to get in trouble. I made calls to the insurance company, the bank that owns my car, and the insurance company again. I filled out forms to get forbearance on my voluminous student loans. I filled out forms to try to get me and my dude admitted to the District of Columbia bar, which I'm really wondering if we're going to be able to do any time soon because it costs a fortune.

Are you bored yet? I am.

And then after all that there are the dishes, which will not stop coming. Seriously. How does a "family" of two produce so many goddamn dishes? Since I am unemployed and we have basically no money, our eating-out frequency has gone from very high to almost zero. Maybe things would be easier if I just fed us lean cuisines or sandwiches or something, but I can not bear to eat that crap and so everything we eat is a production made from scratch which dirties each and every one of the five pans we own.

I feel guilty. I feel guilty for not doing more. The house is still basically in shambles. We have way too much stuff and this apartment is pretty small (although gloriously delightful and in a fantastic location) so there is nowhere to put it. The dresser is overflowing with clothes, there are stacks of books on the floor. There are boxes everywhere, empty and full. We have no couch. And I have no idea where the next money I'll get will come from. But I feel like I should be doing Everything, because hey, I don't have a job. I am realizing that I would make a very, very poor housewife. I like cooking, but I like it in that "event" way, the way that dana says a lot of young men like to cook. I like cooking elaborate things that I have never cooked before. I like a challenge. I do not like things that are rote or routine or things that I am sure will not be a complete failure. I hate all other household chores that are not cooking, except maybe cleaning the bathroom because it is easy and satisfying and disgusting. I hate sitting at home wondering when my boyfriend will get home to entertain me. I hate feeling like I should only go places that I can walk to because why should I spend money on gas or the metro if I don't have to?

There are hardly any jobs. The job announcement pipeline is pretty hollow and echoey. I haven't heard about a position that interests me and that I'm qualified for in over a month. At this point, I'd be satisfied with some more temp work just to get some money in my bank account, but I have no idea whether that will come tomorrow or two months from now.

But I'm done whining. Today is my vacation day, and tomorrow I go back to the "work" of being unemployed. And really, it's good. My health is good. It is joyous beyond description to be back with my best friend and partner again, to share the banal moments of living, to wake up and chatter nonsense at eachother in the dark of morning, to stay up fighting late into the night, to fuck at noon on the weekend before brunch. I kind of like not having anywhere I have to be, and having time to reflect on my career and my goals. The fall weather in DC is beautiful and the trees are shocking colors of red and yellow.

So, it's good. But very different.