what Wednesday afternoon looks like

I'm sprawled on the couch in the living room. Muted summer sunshine is dancing through the slats in the vertical blinds. There's an insectile hum coming from the backyard along with the distant sounds of the neighbors talking in Punjabi. Jessica sits on my lap, her furry cat-chin nuzzled against my bare thigh. Lunch was a bologna sandwich with muenster cheese, pickles and golden mustard. A sweating can of crisp diet pepsi sipped through a straw. I'm reading the last few pages of Bitter is the New Black by Jen Lancaster-- I'm discussion leader at book club later this month and I want the story fresh in my mind.

I miss my job. I miss the rhythmic click-click of computer keys as I run a SQL query. I miss inane elevator conversation. I miss wearing perfume every day and losing my key card several times a week. I miss the security of a paycheck and the anticipatory buzz one gets from a trip to Nordstrom.

After I finish reading, I'm going to fold laundry while tuning into CNN for background noise. I'll gather up the beach towels and decide which bikini to wear to Great America tomorrow. After my food settles, I'll pound out a 5-mile run, using "10-10-10" as my mantra. I'll go downstairs and make some greeting cards while listening to cheesy 80's music. Later tonight, I'll watch the intellectually devoid yet oddly captivating offerings on Bravo-- Top Chef and Work of Art. I'll call my mom to see if her summer cold is better. I'll paint my toenails-- probably orange.

When you don't have the routine of a 9-5 job, you find other ways to compile a to-do list, and more importantly, to act upon it. The pressures of deadlines and impatient bosses are replaced by the persistence of your own thoughts. It's easy to feel irrelevant.

But when I look across the room and see the family pictures on the entertainment center, hear the cat purr while twitching her ears, feel the easy comfort of the pillow against my back, I realize that my days can be satisfying in their simplicity. Without new earrings. Without the phone ringing constantly. Without overpriced lunches in the Loop. Although seemingly elusive, hope and possibility are everywhere. Even in this room with me right now. Living in the moment on this Wednesday afternoon really isn't a terrible place to be.