For the first week, it just felt like I was on vacation. I pretty much expected no obligations and the freedom to do anything I wanted. As I enter the second week, I think it's finally hitting home that I have no more schedule; no more sense of urgency at having to be somewhere or to do anything beyond what I choose. It's liberating and frankly a bit disorienting at the same time.
Since I've worked from home to varying degrees since COVID, the days I spend at home are still a little weird. I have to remind myself that I can take as long as I want to eat lunch and not worry about having to constantly appear online to anyone—because while I got my work done, I still goofed off a lot when I was WFH. I mean—let's be honest—unless you're constantly being monitored, who doesn't?
As I type this, I'm sitting in Case Study, enjoying my iced (because hello! homogay here!) coffee on a weekday; a luxury previously unavailable to me unless it was a holiday or I'd taken a mental health break from work. It's nice. (Though it's a tad more expensive than Starbucks, I'm doing everything I can to support local businesses versus contributing to an oligarch's thirty-second yacht.)
Last Sunday was also a big change; there was none of the usual evening I-have-to-go-back-to-work-tomorrow disgust that has plagued me since Cuntula came on board two years ago. (While I bitched about it, I actually used to enjoy—or at least not dread—going to work prior to her arrival.)
So what's next? I have no idea. As I told everyone who asked (and believe me, everyone did), I'll just take it a day at the time and see where it leads.