That Crazy Calendar

Time flies when you are unemployed.
And maybe when you aren’t, too.
I was looking at the calendar last night. It was not pretty. I have been out of full-time work for six months. I hit that milestone on Thanksgiving, of all days. Now I’m lucky to have an increasingly weird array of freelance gigs, all of which I love, and not only because they add structure and meaning to days that would otherwise have too little of either. In terms of actually getting jobs that would pay me a decent wage, well, it’s been a disaster.
The calendar, though, seems not to care much about the details of where I am at versus where I would like to be. The days fly by. I’m a fairly organized sort of person overall (I hope), but remain perplexed each day as to whether I have put the right things on the to-do list. The calendar never answers that question. That crazy calendar just reminds me that time is passing.
Then there are the little notations that I put in the calendar even before 2009 began. Today, for instance, is the seventh anniversary of the arrival of Olga, one of our cats. Happy Anniversary to Olg. This coming weekend will mark what would have been the 10th anniversary of my working where I used to work. Now I almost wish I had not bothered to write that one down. To hell with those people this holiday season (hey, there’s a card you don’t see at Hallmark).
Tomorrow is December. It used to be my favorite month. The biggie holidays are in December, as is my birthday. Then I went through a period when it seemed a bit exhausting. Cause it is. I feel oddly okay about the arrival tomorrow of December, and am looking forward to the holidays more than I usually do.
I cannot for the life of me imagine why. Maybe it’s a recession-era back to basics. Maybe it’s like Jerry Herman’s song said: We need a little Christmas.