Inevitable identity crisis creeping in

The last time I was off work and not pregnant or breastfeeding, I was 18 and it was the summer and I had a bunch of crap temp jobs that added up to a great tan. I won't count my four months in Europe was I was 23. I worked my ass off that summer carrying a 75 lb backpack in Docs and cut-off jean shorts, guarding my wallet against wayward Australian hobos.

So here I am. Still getting up every morning to sit at my computer. I'm having major writing withdrawal and may just rethink Twitter amongst the strangeness of this time off. I said goodbye to work on Wednesday morning, so it's been only two days, but I'm already trying to figure out wtf I'm going to do with my time.

Option 1: get a scooter



Since moving to Victoria, I've longed for the guts to get one of these things to tool around town. But the helmut hair! There's no baby seat! Fuck it. I'm gonna lose my locks anyhow and the beasts can stay home. Want.

Option 2: become a yogi



Not sure if chemo will grow me some beard, but maybe I'll get the beads, some major patience and basically dial back every conceivable part of my nature to propel me in this direction.

I think the choice is clear. In the meantime, I'm still withdrawing from work. It doesn't help that everyone's been unbelievably nice to me the past few days and everything is so well taken care of. I may just walk around saying "leverage" "synergy" and "optimize" over and over until I get it all out of my system.

Oh yeah, and test drive that Mio that's waiting for me downtown.