Self-Furloughed

Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all now:

"Are you doing your blog anymore?"

"I haven't seen anything on your blog recently; what's up with that?"

"You know, I'm going to lose interest and delete you from my favorites if you don't keep writing."

"WTF? Are you raising your rates on the blue mailbox, just like the United States Postal Service does every other day? Are we going to have to pay you to write funny, self-effacing, publication-worthy stories?"

Okay, so no one actually said that last one, unless you count me reading the cat's mind.

The truth is, I inadvertently took a self-imposed furlough for the summer. It all started back at the beginning of June with me going to my regularly scheduled therapy appointment. When I arrived at my usual every-other week 6pm time slot, I realized it was making me mentally sick to even think about the 50 minute sessions. The pressure of having to come up with something to talk about, and then realizing I had more than that hour's worth of discussion fodder, was starting to get to me...I decided, as I pulled up in front of the building, that I would take the summer off from therapy.

Thankfully, my therapist agreed that she supported this decision and then we both acknowledged that this was probably the most spontaneous I'd been in the past 16 years. Well, unless you count the time I almost called in sick to work because it was a nice day outside but then chickened out at the last minute and still got to work on time. Or the time I said I wanted pizza for dinner and then all of the sudden changed my mind and decided that I really wanted sushi.

So I made my next appointment for September, gave my therapist a hug, and walked out of her office carrying a huge, helium-filled ball of relief.

With this major decision behind me, I started randomly, and not too consciously, taking the summer off of other things too. If I didn't make it to the gym 6 days a week, 5 was okay. If I didn't get to work until after 8am, so what. If I wanted to buy Rosetta Stone and practice my Spanish, okay. If I decided to sit out on the back deck and watch the squirrels dangle upside down trying to get to the bird food, so be it. And if I felt compelled to read my friend's copy of Atlas Shrugged (the 1000+ page book by Ayn Rand), I'd do it (well, I'm only on page 608, but I'll get there!). In the midst of all of this vacationing from my normal routines in life, the blog got put on the back middle eye of the six burner stove - that's the one that only gets used at Thanksgiving. Does anyone really ever use all six burners unless it's a holiday?

So here I am, with no postings in June or July. This is the first time since Opening Day of the Blue Mailbox that there has been a month, let alone two, without a post. I just couldn't let it get to three. And my self-imposed furlough ends in a week anyway. The cool thing is that I'm writing because I want to, not just because I want there to be a post on the blog...

So here's to the end of summer vacation - cheers with a jaeger and a beer chaser!