Rebooting

Yesterday evening I went to put on a recently purchased jacket. I’ve only worn it a couple of times, and yet pulling it on I found a tear on the sleeve. Goodness knows where it came from, but guess what? This morning I had time to sew it up. It didn’t get put on a pile to be done at the weekend (I can only sew in daylight, poor old thing, eyes are going) it got done straightaway. This is the gift of giving up work. Time. I had time to phone the electricity board and was able to arrange a time for them to come. Quickly. I don’t have to arrange time off work for electricity board visits, or any other workmen type visits anymore.

I had a letter from our travel agents who needed some information for our forthcoming (exciting) trip to India and Nepal. Instead of surreptitiously phoning from work, and not having the right information there, I had time to do it straightaway. Its a revelation to me how much easier life is generally when work doesn’t interrupt it.

I met with a friend for lunch. In the past I have always had less than an hour by the time I get to the restaurant, to scoff down the food and catch up on gossip. This time we lingered over lunch had two pots of tea, each, and even ran to puddings. Two hours later we were gossiped out. A leisurely lunch with an old friend is definitely one of life’s small pleasures.

This afternoon, with not too much to do, I indulged in watching a tennis match on tv (Murray vs Djokovic since you ask. Not sure if spelling is right, sorry!) and I still have time to type up a blog post before getting in the kitchen to make dinner.

My time is now my own.

So, after 15 years of dedicated service, I left work six weeks ago and am now enjoying being a lady of leisure. Whilst I was miserably serving my full, four months, notice, there was excited talk about my taking on bits and pieces of work ad hoc to bring in a little extra dosh. However, the longer I have spent at home the less inclined I am to start looking, and, if I’m truthful, am hoping that nothing turns up.

I am in the very happy and fortunate position that my not working does not mean destitution. My husband is a high earner, kids are independent, and we’ve paid off our mortgage. My income was generally being saved for our retirement and treats, such as expensive holidays to far flung and exotic places. So some income for me would be nice, but not necessarily essential.

So far, I’ve managed to keep myself busy all day, every day. People have asked ‘don’t you get bored?’ No. I don’t. I am filling my days with homely, housewifey things. Things only previously done cursorily at weekends. For instance, this morning, I cleaned the windows…vigourously and actually enjoyed it. I’ve baked bread -without the machine. I no longer have outstanding ironing, and the dog is enjoying lots more exercise and attention. I’ve been digging over the garden ready for vegetables next year, and of course, I am writing.

I feel great. I have energy and enthusiasm once more. No longer dragged down into depression by the stress and responsibilities of work, I can be silly again. I have found my lost self. I was switched off, now I am switched on again.