Has October Started Yet?!

On a day this week when it was warm enough to comfortably sit outside, I was in the backyard with the cats. It's like a play date now for them. They sit by the door, crying to go out. Metro does it at night, which just makes me crazy with the thought. My dad always put our cats out of the house after dark, no matter what the temperature. On very cold winter nights, I would sneak downstairs and let them back in.

On this warm, sunny afternoon Judy caught sight of a butterfly and chased it all around the yard. With her eyes locked on the bug, she romped around in the grass like a puppy. It was pretty damn cute. I started to cry, the kind that takes me by surprise.

Not the right time for PMS. There must be something else going on. For the past two days I haven't really gone away from the house, other than dinner at K.'s on Monday. It was a nice evening, but by 11 o'clock I was restless and wanted to go back home. I haven't been to yoga and I haven't hiked since last week. My bike is still in the shop. I spend way too much time online. I guess some good news is I'm not drinking much either. When I start hedging toward the obvious answer -- depression -- I pick up and cook, or clean, or read.

There are a few things at play here. I'm not working full time but it's only been a month. This is a major adjustment. Everyone knows the math: we spend a LOT of time at work. I think it's safe to say that when we're not working, that time is like "anti-work." An intense decompression period. A mental and physical reaction to having been working all day or week--I don't know for sure but the transition perhaps even more prolonged until after the kids go to bed. I don't have either of those conditions now. So when I'm not doing anything I tell myself that it's okay, I've been working since I was 16 years old and the downtime isn't going to kill me. But then I read the news, and the statistics, and I imagine that I will be unemployed for the rest of my life. The longer this drags out, the weaker the leads. I wonder if I will ever again be able to buy anything for myself that isn't health insurance or has no immediate practical purpose.

I think the other story might be that I'm starting to meet people and build a new social circle. It's been wonderful. Everyone I've met so far has been friendly, genuine, and helpful. Many of them are transplants themselves, so the advice flows freely and with a hint of attitude, like New Yorkers when you ask them for directions on the subway. My stupid questions like "Why can't I buy ice cube trays anywhere here?" are no longer stupid but more like an inside joke. It's comforting.

At the same time, a new social circle means a whole new dynamic that I have to map out, mainly within myself. Particularly when I'm asked the question, "So, what do you do?" (this is still New York, it's not Europe.) Where I should be colorful, honesty prevails. "Nothing. Right now I'm not doing anything." I wait a beat, and then explain. Starting from such a clean slate I can really say whatever I want. But I have this particular talent of making things so just by saying them, an old trick where I just sort of make the decision as it's coming out of my mouth. In this case, I don't trust myself to even to do that right.

I'm not sure how else to describe it other than acute insecurity -- a feeling I'm not too familiar with. I'm pretty sure it's why many adults in New York won't move house unless, of course, it's for a job (which comes with a built-in answer and a pre-fab social circle). We work very hard here to build our personae, our (sorry) raison d'etre, that the idea of having to do it all over again somewhere else seems superfluous.

Maybe it is.