But I do know what I don't want. I don't want to work. I can't express in words (but maybe via interpretive dance) how much I have enjoyed my 3 months (so far) of living off savings and not reporting to work. I am my own boss. I take afternoons naps. I can spend an entire day wandering around my neighborhood or any neighborhood I choose. Sometimes I go to the gym, the post office, meet a friend for lunch, catch a buzz midday. I went to France and the beach and up to BF's in the Bronx.
Thursday I head to Berlin. I'm meeting a friend there. I have no work to finish before vacation pressure, no deadlines, no boss waiting for me with a large pile of work upon my return. My only responsibility is to water my plants before I go, then water them again when I return. I'll get another manicure, pack a bag, that's it. Life is good. Being unemployed is great. All the naysayers that warned me I'd be bored were wrong. I read three books, have a golden bronze tan, go out late night mid week, have sex between 9am and 5pm, am never rushing to get anywhere and haven't spilled coffee on myself or forgotten my keys or lost my cell phone. Everyone I meet tells me I look really relaxed, as if they're surprised.
Taking the summer off was a great idea, my idea, no regrets, except that it can't last forever.