It's weird not going to work. You don't realize how much of your life it defines until suddenly, it's Monday, and you're at home, watching Dawson's Creek and contemplating what snacks you want to eat now that lunch is over. I would be busy unpacking, but my stuff doesn't get here until Saturday, and besides, knowing me, I'll be done unpacking in a day. I could be busy painting -- for once in my life, I am not happy with the state of whiteness everywhere -- but I'm not ready to commit yet. I'm thinking Summer Wish for my office, Feldspar for the downstairs bathroom. But actually painting? What if I don't like the colors once they're on the walls? What if I never find a job? What if I just sit around watching Dawson's Creek forever, waiting for J.R. to come home?
Yeah, seems unlikely to me, too. Clearly, at some point, I'll switch to Felicity.
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