I am not afraid of Friday the 13th. Never have been. In fact, some of them have been really, really good days although not one of them in particular comes to mind.
So... why am I sitting here at 3.30 AM typing in my blog? Well, I woke up from a series of strange, fantasical dreams from which I could not get back to sleep. Considering I went to bed feeling sick last night at (SHOCKER!) 9.30 PM, I think I may have gotten my requisite 6 hours of sleep and might actually be up, but all the yawning suggests otherwise and I may actually go back to bed once I'm done with this blog entry (which may turn out to be rather long, so if patience is not your virtue you might want to quit while you're ahead). Whew! Talk about a run-on sentence!
At any rate I woke up first after a strange dream involving the aftermath of a hurricane, 2 kids swimming in the ocean and rummaging through the wreckage of beachfront houses which were all neatly pegged by cut and trimmed lumber and discovering Fanny Wildcat from Frontierville (a Facebook game) was a distant ancestor.
Yeah, that's what I said. HUNH?
At any rate the second dream, for being as benign as it was, was more disturbing to me. Apparently I was working a job I loved and the company collapsed, ended or downsized, and I, along with this other girl (Cynthia, who never actually made an appearance), was let go. It was in this old, tall building and it had this apartment on the 11th floor where the boss lived (he looked like Joe DuBois from Medium and was built like a kid I had a crush on in middle school). I liked this guy and visited him there to get some info on the job aftermath- we flirted a little and teased each other (nothing ontoward happened) and I hit him playfully with a huge wooden spoon and left. At any rate apparently the building was haunted- I got in the elevator and it went haywire (this is actually a recurring theme in some of my dreams- the annoying haunted elevator)- when it actually got me back to the 11th floor it took me right back to the boss' apartment instead of the office and I found it dark and empty with a 401K letter addressed to me and this Cynthia. It stated he (the boss) had enjoyed working with us but any further assistance from him would cost $155.50 and hour. There was some more to it (avoiding the elevator to get back to the office) but at that time I woke up in a sad mood, legs hurting like heck and unable to get back to sleep. So I am thinking this is actually going to be a reflective day, so I am going to reflect on this dream a bit more.
For those of you who were not aware, I was fired from my last job. Ostensibly because I could not make productivity rates, but I am not going to go into any further details. When I first got written up for the productivity matter, I was frantic, super stressed, almost at the point of tearing my hair out. Then the Lord stepped in and sent me 3 commercial flats of blueberries via a member of my church and I spent several days just making blueberry and blueberry hybrid jams. And during the whole time I became this calm, rational person and realized there is more to life than that job and I was just let what was happening happen, whether it was stay at this job (which I rapidly discovered I HATED) or lose it. I did not do this on purpose as I busted my butt to make it until the minute I was fired but it was a great relief to finally see the end of it. So much so that my now former boss was following me around asking if I was sure I was ok.
Now I realize that I was probably not as ok as I thought as I woke up from this dream, not actually crying, but teary and sad. It's hard losing a job. I have spent the last 6 weeks actually enjoying myself canning about 18 cases of jam (and still more to come), getting my kitchen and dining room under control (nearly there!) and just decompressing. But underlying that I was subtly kicking myself for mistakes I've made jobwise and vowing not to do it again. I came to the conclusion last week after reading the aforementioned Terry Pratchett book "Unseen Academicals" that what I really want is a job, not a career. Yeah, I am Glenda Sugarbean, who runs the Night Kitchen at Unseen Unversity, except I am a jam girl, not a pie girl. If I could stay home and make a living making jam, I'd do it, but it's not going to happen anytime soon. All I really wanted in life was to be a stay at home mom, but that is never going to happen due to choices I don't regret making and uncooperative health, so I am just taking the side road journey through life and enjoying what I can. And this next job I am going to do to the best of my ability, not get real involved in the social aspects, and not bring any of it home. We'll see how that plays out. And I vow I am going to make at least one batch of jam a week, as it relaxes me and keeps me balanced.
This last week, due to various reasons, (getting the kitchen ready for the chest freezer being one of them) I have not put anything up. It is almost finished- the last bit is to decide if the breadmaker stays or goes, finish the dish washing and wipe down the counters. Oh, and figure out where all the copious amounts of plastic containers are going as there is no room for them now in the kitchen. However, I went out grocery shopping today and bought more stuff to put up (peaches! cherries! plums! kiwis!) so the push is on. And considering this is our anniversary weekend (amazingly I was the one who forgot about it, Derek had to remind me) I don't have a huge lot of time to do it. So wish me luck.
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