So, my siblings and I had a calm, civil meeting with each other today to discuss our further efforts in settling our father’s estate. It’s caused me to cautiously hope that perhaps I was wrong and that in the end we will be able to honor our father and his wishes after all. A close friend suggested that perhaps my freak-out last week opened some eyes or otherwise provided food for thought. Or maybe Dad is behind the scenes, raising hell with Fate’s technical support staff. I don’t know; maybe I was just making a mountain out of a molehill. I suppose whatever the case, it remains to be seen. I don’t even want to think about it too much, lest I jinx it.
I just hope that when all of this is settled and over, that it turns out I was dead wrong, that I owe them a big, fat, hear-felt apology, and that I have to eat a frickin’ mountain of crow. Nothing would make me happier; truer words have never been uttered. And “dead” wrong was a rather poor choice of words in retrospect, but I’ll let it go.
Cautiously optimistic. Odd to feel that right now … almost carefree, even. “Freedom is just another word for nothin’ left to lose.” Guess my emotions have bottomed out; that’s surely part of it. But a lot of it is has to do with the fact that I think losing my job is probably a good thing, in the long run. Sure, some advance warning might have been nice, and the timing could certainly have been better. But as I mentioned in a previous post, finding motivation to do anything beyond phoning it in, so to speak, had become very difficult in the wake of my father’s death. And even before then, I had already come to the realization that things needed to change.
It will be nice to wake up tomorrow whenever I feel like it, and not have to stress about deadlines, copy edits, proofs, and so forth. In fact, while I eventually want to do something that I have a passion for, I think in the interim I want something that is temporary and part-time, and relatively mindless. Something that will pay the bills while I see this estate business through with my siblings, and absorb and process all these changes.
Strange, that a temporary, low-paying job stacking boxes in a warehouse at night suddenly sounds like it would an ideal situation. But then the word “strange” is part and parcel of my existence these days. …