I had three days off in a row this weekend.
Come to find out, I don't do well with time off.
One day into it, and I was ready to go back to work.
The problem with having time off is there's just so much time to think.
And think.
And think some more.
Like today.... I went all the way until 6:30pm without talking to a single person. Not because I was alone, but because I was by myself-- even though surrounded by people.
So I had lots of time to think. About what I'm doing in NYC. About how much I love it here. About what I miss about living in the 'burbs. About whether or not it's okay for me to keep working the jobs I work. About what people think of the fact that I'm almost 30, have my MA, and am a waitress. About how people don't understand how I just don't want a typical career. About how most people don't quite get "from whence I came" when I moved here to take a break. About how I'm really scared of finding myself back there. About what to do with my house. About whether or not I'm a failure for leaving Philly. About how I need to stop thinking so much.
I work tomorrow. In fact, I'll be working for the next six days.
I think that's a good thing.
Oh, I say the same thing... but for me it's about weekends since my job is different. I sometimes feel it Sunday night especially right before I go back to work. This I-need-to-be-teaching-instead-of-overanalyzing-thing. Ah, I miss you.
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