It’s been three months now since I’ve been unemployed, and I’ve fallen into strange habits, a new pattern of day-to-day living.
On bad days, I’m down and dejected with no hope of finding a job. I wallow, hole up in my apartment, and eat poorly.
On good days, I spin Regina Spektor albums and work at home, breeze and sunshine trailing in from my open window. At night, as my writing wraps up, I light some incense and unwind with a nightcap and cigarette.
You might say I’m “living the life,” working so comfortably and not (yet) worrying about money. But it’s more like I’ve found a way to enjoy hermit life, because I can’t afford to go out and spend.
So the fun I have in my head, the drinks I enjoy by myself. Making playlists for solitary work and imaginary parties has become my new hobby. Sometimes I procrastinate and dance by myself.