I think I’m ready for a change. The trouble is, I don’t know exactly what I want to change, or how, or even why.
Change my job? Not now! Not when I’m just starting to see the promise of eighteen years of loyalty and hard work becoming reality. Writing me into the partnership that owns The Kennel might have been a way to keep me working a little harder for a little longer, but it includes its own reward, assuming I live long enough to collect it. It might be only an illusion of security, but that’s a whole lot more than I’ve ever had before.
Maybe I could change the way I do my job, though. I know I could do better at time management, and I could catch up on my filing and try to stay better organized. That would make things a little better around here, but it’s really not the change I had in mind.
Change where I live? No way! Not unless I have to, because this is the place I’ve been wanting all my life. It’s safe, it’s secluded, and best of all it’s quiet. I’ve lived in apartments in town, and I’d be devastated if I had to go back to that situation. I have a place in the country that I can afford, a place where nobody looks over my shoulder (or peeks in my blinds). I wouldn’t trade that for a deluxe apartment in the sky.
Maybe I could rearrange the furniture, though. I could surely keep the house less cluttered and better organized. I’m too deep in debt to think about new stuff, but I can get a lot of mileage out of the old stuff, and I wouldn’t get tired of it as easily if I could just be a little more creative about the way I use the space I’m in. Still, that’s not exactly the change I thought I needed when I started thinking about this. |