The Work of Not Working

I am waiting for the cat to pee.
It turns out—and this is something I really did not know back when I was an employed American—my cat Max does not do a lot of peeing. But he does a lot of sleeping. So this morning and now this afternoon I am watching him sleep. I’m not loving it. Heck, I don’t think even he’s loving it.
This is supposed to be one of the up-sides of being jobless: you have time to take care of errands and household projects. Waiting for Max to urinate would be a combination of the two, I guess, or at least a variation. The vet needs a urine sample from one of my two high-quality felines, so my being home now to collect his urine sample should be ideal. Well, I guess the phrases “urine sample” and “ideal” never go together, but this is a little household task that at least I’m taking care of. (We won’t get into how you get the urine sample.)
At least I have a shot of getting this task done. So many others are hanging over my head: reorganizing the closets (or am I organizing them for the first time? I can’t remember); cleaning out the goo between the tiles on the floor; having the bathtub relined; and throwing away all the stuff that needs to be thrown away. I would think I would further along on all of these things, especially the ones that take little or no money. But even with the gift of time in my schedule, I find myself pretty unable to make progress. I’m consumed with the job thing and really do spend the workdays…working. Even without a job.
In a way, I’m working harder than ever. Cause when I’m here, just me and the cats and my laptop, I work pretty intensely and usually without much interruption—until “The View” comes on. Thank God my wacky gals were back this morning from their vacation. Other than time off for Whoopi and company, working at home has been oddly productive, in the sense that I have finished a lot of emails and job applications and made contact with a fair number of people. I’m disciplined enough to keep—and then keep to—a to-do list.
As anyone who has ever been in an office knows, it’s wacky there. It’s all about whether Sandy and Bobby are dating and whichever jerk has just called to yell at you and left a message and you are left wondering whether you should respond first to the voice-mails or just keep emailing. It’s a mess. A hectic mess where the to-do list is always under assault from other people, especially the ones who can fire you. Working at home is lonelier, but not as lonely as I would have thought. I don’t miss the constant interruptions or the we-did-not-need-this-meeting meetings or even most of the people. I do miss a few of them, though, and I miss the reason for getting up in the morning.
Max just started another nap. Seems to have no need to pee. If this is a metaphor for my current situation, I don’t quite grasp it.