The Sunday That Wasn't

I tend to keep an eye on the clock on Sundays. I do it most days, actually, but especially on Sundays. It's the transition day between weekend and week. It's time to snap back to adult mode. We try to cook a "real" meal (avoiding pre-packaged foods), since we have the time and energy. I wash dishes and prep lunch items (crackers, cheese, fruit, veggies, baked goods, whatever's going) and Kate does laundry. We prepare for the week ahead, and we go to bed at a reasonable hour.

For me, this Sunday has been a day of unreminding. Out of habit, I keep prompting myself to start thinking about work tomorrow (what I will wear, what I will take for lunch, what's waiting for me on my desk) and then I remember. Friday was my last day at work. There's nowhere I have to be tomorrow; not unless I decide to walk to H&W for some fresh produce.

For months now, I've known my job would end on April 8th. I knew there would be an adjustment period, but I had no idea how jarring the change would be. A weird feeling came over me Friday afternoon as I hugged my (former) coworkers and walked out the door, and I haven't been able to shake it off. I don't regret my decision, and part of me is already in excitement mode, but the rest of me is still trying to process the fact that this is all real. It's not some upcoming event that I'm waiting on. It's here.

I've quit jobs before, and I don't remember ever struggling this much to click into a new routine. Maybe it's because I'm older now. Maybe it's because this was the longest job I'd ever held. But my mind keeps racing with things I don't need to think about anymore. I think about artwork I started for specific customers and won't ever finish. I think about ongoing conversations and inside jokes I had with my coworkers. During stressful points in the last few weeks, I would remind myself that, soon, none of this was going to matter to me. In the grand scheme of my life, these things don't matter. But it looks like it's going to take me some time to slough off the habit of thinking about the job that isn't.

Sunday is still Sunday, to a point. I'll still be getting up early from Monday to Friday. While Kate gets ready for work, I'll be packing her lunch and making breakfast for the two of us. Once she heads out, my own work day will begin. It will be an admixture of writing, pitching, self-promoting, and of course household chores. I don't know yet how I'll shape my days, but I've got time to figure it out.

Before this routine really takes hold, Kate and I will have what we're calling a buffer week. My brother is arriving from Nova Scotia on Tuesday morning. He's never been here before, and we're excited to show him a good time. Kate's taking a couple of days off from work so we can all spend time together. It will be a mini-vacation, and I think it'll help both of us reset before fully diving into the transition.

Tomorrow will be Day 1 of the new lifestyle, but only sort of. I expect most of my time will be spent on the household side of things. I want to give the apartment a good scrub, whip up some baked goods for the freezer, and do a fruit run. Ok, probably a fruit walk. It will be nice to get outside during the day; I certainly won't miss being stuck inside with fluorescent lights and stale air.

All in all, it's looking like a pretty pleasant Monday. And when Kate gets home from work to a spotless home and the smell of dinner cooking, I expect she'll agree. It's funny to think that a same-sex couple like us would voluntarily take on such traditional roles in our marriage (her the breadwinner, me the housewife). It's funnier still to think that the fact that we're queer is probably what's going to make it work. There are no gendered expectations here; no male/female power dynamic to contend with. Just two women having an ongoing dialogue about division of labour, doing what works for us.

We're both excited. And, for once, I'm looking forward to a Monday.