The Gift of Time

“How do you like your new job?” “How’s the new life?” “Are you enjoying your freedom?”

My only answer is to beam. I grin like a lunatic, and do a little dance, and say something inanely cheerful.

I wake up smiling, in the dark, at 6am, ready to get to work. I take fewer but longer breaks than when I was at my office job. I get more steps before 9am than I used to all day without putting in any thought about it – I just move more.

This morning I took a shower, air-dried, put on clean, soft clothes, took my vitamins and drank my water, had toast with peanut butter and bananas, and now I’m at work, just downstairs, with my first batch of clay already in the oven and a steaming cup of mocha nearby, the morning sun streaming into the basement (something I’ve rarely seen).

In the past nineteen days, I had an online sale and made 2 weeks’ worth of my previous pay from it, figuring out shipping costs in the process. I created a camera area and posted a how-to video with accompanying blog post. I re-activated physical sales on Etsy. I had a relatively successful table at a street sale. I invented three new styles of jewellery. I spent a day at an art gallery making things. I organized what I make into lines and created branding for them. I spent a day in a coffee shop working on my business plan, co-working quietly with a beloved friend. I beachcombed and napped and laughed and hurt and recovered.

All the things I imagined I could do if only I had the time… I’m doing. And it is fucking glorious.


So, like, in February when there are no sales and I need to buy furnace oil, I might be a little sadder than this. But right now? Right now is inanely cheerful.