How Did We Get…

…to the middle of November so quickly? It seems like it was just yesterday that I was keeping an eye on the weather forecast to justify sneaking out to the beach. But in fact, it’s been more than two months since my last day on the rocks. Even though the snow hasn’t started flying yet around Halifax, I drove up to Moncton earlier this week to have Junior’s winter shoes installed. (In a display of stunning irrationality, the fire marshall has deemed hazardous the practice of keeping a set of tires in the garage I share with one other tenant.) In fact, this has been a remarkably mild autumn so far, with days when the mercury is expected to go up to 15C still in the forecast for the coming days. That might not seem like such a big deal for some of you, but that’s a good 8 to 10 degrees above average for this time of year.

But being the middle of November already, I can’t help but take stalk of my progress in terms of work in the last little while. After all, my goal was—still is—to roll out version 2.0 of TextStyleM to my existing clients by the end of the year. That’s only six weeks or so. That’s not much time in view of all that has to be done.

The trip, the job application and things that came up with several of my clients in the last two weeks have slowed my progress. And I can’t deny that I’m still adjusting to the idea of applying for an outside job sooner rather than later. In fact, I’ll be applying for another one next week.

I napped earlier this evening because I hadn’t had nearly enough sleep the night before, and the dreams were just plain crazy. In one, I had moved to an apartment in the South End of Halifax, but one night coming back from work, I couldn’t find it anymore; I kept walking up and down the street in the hope of eventually finding it, all the while hoping no one would notice my increasing distress. In another—or perhaps it was the subplot of the same dream—I was having to relearn interacting with others in an office setting; people were very slow to warm to me, and they would look at me and each other as if to say that they knew I would never really fit in.

In short, it wasn’t a very restful nap. Clearly there’s anxiety there. After nearly a decade of freelance and contract work, I find it hard to imagine going back to a more traditional arrangement. Part of the anxiety, I think, is that I left my last “real” job in ’96 with a very bad taste, but I seem to fail to recognize that the main cause of my discontent was that I was grossly underemployed at that job and my attempts at expanding the job to make it more interesting were downplayed if not downright discouraged. I should be wise enough not to assume that all jobs will be like that one.

More to the point, however, I think the wishful part of me is still clinging to the hope that I won’t need to enact the infamous Plan B, even though several friends and my brother have convinced me that Plan B could turn out to be so much better than anything I can imagine right now.

And She Said (And I Quote) “Meow”

I’ve been meaning to link to this story ever since I read it on Nils’ blog. Nils is by far one of the best storytellers in this part of the world. And while the piece I’m linking to is funny, Nilbo (as Nils is known to his friends) has a way of writing that shows how much of a sensitive guy he really is. To illustrate this point, consider his piece on Remembrance Day.

For the record, I’m a bigger fan of goofy dogs than cunning cats, but Nilbo’s story undeniably attests to the superiority of cats. Even I wouldn’t argue against that.