I'm trying to figure out why I don't quite feel like a free woman. Maybe on my way to meet Gina, I'll blast Melissa Ferrick's "No Particular Place to Be" to encourage the mood. Sure, I have errands to run, laundry to do, the house to clean... but still, I have ten more hours a day in which to do all that. I'm in the midst of a lot of paperwork, but I look at having to provide information on my assets to my new employer (to ensure no conflict of interest with anything I might work on) as an opportunity to get my act together and consolidate my disparate 401k accounts and otherwise take control of my finances. I have yet to reap a sleep-in dividend, as I'm conditioned to wake up at 5am; Gracie is conditioned to start whining her little head off shortly thereafter; and the metro, VRE and freight trains that run a block away from where I live also become very noisy around that time. Meanwhile, the knowledge that I have no obligation to rise at that hour, together with a failure to consider the factors listed above, take away the incentive to go to bed at a reasonable hour, which makes me a still-sleep-deprived free woman. Part of me, in a sick way, hoped my last drive to and from work would be painful, as a reminder of what I was getting away from, but nary a deer or aggressive driver stepped up to the plate, and it was smooth sailing. I can't complain, though-- taking the first hour of the day to sleepily lounge around and read the paper is more relaxing than driving. It's probably more relaxing than metroing to work, too, so I should enjoy it while it lasts. And I should stop rambling and go to the gym.
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