I don’t know what to do with myself. <\/p>\n
I’m sitting here, after sleeping for 10 hours, having a cup of coffee and thinking, “What now?”<\/p>\n
There are things I could be doing and perhaps even things I should<\/strong><\/em> be doing. The house is open, there’s light rain failing and aside from the incessant traffic noise all is quiet.<\/p>\n I should be planning to move my stuff out of the apartment. I should be looking for a new job. I should be working on my resume. I should be deciding what’s next. But all those things are somehow just not that important. <\/p>\n There’s something about being off work on a “real” weekend day. I know it’s just cultural… the seventh day and all that, but somehow the day off seems different.<\/p>\n One thing I’m appreciative of, is that there’s no screaming leaf blowers as a wake up call. <\/p>\n It’s a lazy kind of Sunday, even the birds are muted in their squabbling.<\/p>\n Later, I’ll mosey over to the hair cut place in a while and maybe take myself out to breakfast…<\/p>\n Or Not<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m sitting here, after sleeping for 10 hours, having a cup of coffee and thinking, “What now?” There are things I could be doing and perhaps even things I should be doing. The house is open, there’s light rain failing and aside from the incessant traffic noise … <\/p>\n