I like to make note of the times I am wrong and let Gavin know of those occasions, as I like to think I'm not wrong often (of course).  Yesterday, I was.  Wrong, that is.  I got a job.  Evidently, this particular prospective employer to whom I sent my resume did not pick up on my I-really-don't-think-I-want-this-job vibe and hired me.  I'm grateful, of course.  Sort of.

It's good to feel I'm contributing to the family income again.  I have also missed working.  That problem is solved, for now at least.  It's a contract position so it won't go on forever.  That's OK.

This, in no way, solves my mid-life crisis.  I left my old job for a variety of reasons and one of those was boredom.  I'm tired of doing the same thing I've been doing for twenty years especially when I'm not passionate about it.  Chloe, my friend in Paris thinks this is all American horse-shit.  She lives to live.  She like her food, family, friends, excursions, travels and experiences and her job is merely a tool by which she can enjoy the list.  I'm not there.  I want to like what I do.  I would love to find something I love, have strong (positive) feelings about and then go about doing it.  Not knowing what that is, I resort to taking a position that pays and gets me out of the house.

This mixture of gratitude and concession is like an old skirt I used to wear a lot that still fits but don't like any more.  I may look good in it, but I want something new.  I've come home from enough "shopping excursions" lately I don't enjoy the "process" anymore and that's an uncomfortable place to be.  I feel I'm whining again.  It's a trait I consider unattractive in others so I will refrain and focus on the gratitude.  Perhaps I'll learn something from this new job.  Or, perhaps I'll become more like Chloe and won't expect my job to rock my world.  No one said morphing and constantly evolving would be this exhausting!

I'm done now.  No more whining.  Gratitude.  Om.