by isaac black

It’s December now, improbably. Time has gone by so fast, presumably because I spend so little time awake (9 hours a night seems to be a minimum for me), but also because I mark time both by the beginning of the month (for budget purposes) and the 18th, the day in September when I quit.

As far as my budget goes, $1,700 a month is quite comfortable, even with a car payment and now a health insurance premium. I drove to San Francisco and still only went over budget by $50. I rarely eat out, which helps, but I don’t exactly deprive myself at the grocery store. I might try to cut back on a few things, but right now I don’t really see the need.

I was worried at the outset that I might go a little batty without any forced social interaction. I’m definitely keeping it together, but it seemed like a real danger for the first time two days ago. I had overextended myself socially the last couple of weeks, so this week I had been very reluctant to make any plans with people that I don’t know well. Being an introvert, I was taking some time for myself. It felt really good, but at the same time I was dissatisfied with the most recent section of the novel I’m working on and couldn’t figure out why. It was like a burr in my shoe. I couldn’t feel productive or move on from it until I figured it out. I felt a little like I was existing in the fictional world I had created, poring over the details trying to make it more compelling.

I realized that the text wasn’t as fun as I wanted it. I thought through some things and made some revisions and came out the other side feeling better about it. I’m now sitting at my computer procrastinating going to a potluck with some friends, so socializing may still be a little much for me, but at least I don’t feel like a disheveled lunatic wiping boogers on his bathrobe (I never actually did that).

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