Well, I made it to Thursday 🙂 When I wrote the last Blog, we had only 2 weeks until we flew to Dallas, and it was my last day at work.
Today, we have only one week until we fly 🙂
So, am I missing work? Interestingly, I don’t feel any regrets at all about it now. On Saturday and Sunday, and some part of Monday, I felt very shocked and didn’t really know what I was feelling. I was very drained and emotional. By Tuesday, my patient, wonderful, loving husband had held my hand through the worst of it and I was enjoying the sunshine again.
What did surprise me was that i wasn’t sad for amazon, rather for the implications of my not working — I’ve supported myself since I was 17; even when i was at university I worked full-time. I’ve always earned my own wage (well, except for one disastrous year in which I tried to live on a student grant — remember them?!)
So what is odd for me is the feeling that I have to access Daniel’s money — that I’ll have no bank account necessarily; that anything i do have will in some respect have been negotiated through daniel.
Of course, that’s not how it is with us. i will have full, unrestricted access to everything; we’ve already discussed that my work in being at home earns 100% of Daniel’s wage, as much as his work in employment does.
But the fact remains that I will have to get used to not having an independent income.
I am so glad that I haven’t got to drive away from this delicious, green, sweet countryside into the dirty of Slough.
And i have to say — I don’t really miss Amazon very much at all yet. I do feel still the deeply etched body alarm-clock, that has timed my corporeal feelings around that office timetable. I guess that will wear off. I feel nervous about what is to come, because it is such a huge change.
the moving front has progressed — both cars sold, gerbils (or the Giblets as we are calling them when we don’t want the girls to understand what we are saying) have been rehomed, and we have a skip sitting in our back drive, which is already half full!
Skip to the Charity Shop
Old ski boots slope slyly sunwards
next to scraped roller blades full of
Rueful books with damp words chastising,
musty Madeline’s gone a rusty red in her
carboard, soggy, forgotten bed.
So row, row, row the boat
with a hop, Skip and jump
the past has gone to a charity shop
but a trinket-free future’s in front.