You say shipping container, I say boxcar

It has been 3 weeks since my career in newspapering (presumably) came to an end. The first couple of days I was in a haze. Then a long-planned (but maybe not so ill-timed after all) trip to visit my dad in Maine kept me occupied for a week. After that, the general housekeeping associated with being out of work - unemployment benefits (hahaha benefits), insurance matters, budgeting, updating the ol' resume - pretty much used up most of the days for another week or so. And now, here I am, going about the business of looking for a job and after a couple of rejections ALREADY from prospective employers, I am about ready to give up and look seriously into the hobo-ing arts. And it has only been 3 weeks.

These days, when Jim suggests we grab a bite at our favorite lunch buffet or maybe go to a movie I realize I haven't bathed in days (step one to becoming a hobo). Already, that thoughtfully curated calendar plotting out day by day and hour by hour the household chores I should tackle is making me anxious with its lack of lines drawn through tasks. What am I doing all day every day - days that are longer still since I don't spend an hour grooming? I'm sure not catching up on the magazines that have stacked up over the months, or reading the books I've been meaning to read or watching the movies and television shows clogging the DVR. 

And I'm pretty sure the pounds I lost since January are plotting their return because despite spending an hour and a half on the elliptical most mornings, now when Jim comes home with that white box from Gibson's I no longer portion a single donut out into snack baggies for bite-size treats that last four days. Oh, no no no -- donut go bye-bye real quick. Just a few weeks ago, I was using an app to track every bite I put into my mouth; with a diet rich in box wine and jelly beans (step two to becoming a hobo), I'm not super inclined to log the things that are fueling me these days.

Not long ago, I longed for "me" time. Now, I don't know what to do with me or time. I suppose I could start doing some research into Jim's latest obsession: container homes. He sees us in retirement living in a super-cool, super-efficient shipping container home. While that isn't an extravagant life goal, maybe I need to be preparing him for the fact that that probably is not going to be our reality. But if I work real hard at not working real hard (step three to becoming a hobo), a boxcar just might be in our future.