When you’re completely burnt out and going to work isn’t something that you can bring yourself to do even one more day, maybe it isn’t really a crisis. Maybe it’s a revelation. Or it might be more like an awakening. Wait, no. Just plain waking up. Simple, right? Okay, picture someone standing in front of you, disgusted with the dazed look on your face after they’ve grabbed you by the hair, slapped you and yelled, “Snap out of it!” in a Brooklyn accent. That kind of waking up. Well, maybe that’s not a very appealing image. It may have worked on me, though. If it had happened, I’d probably still be at work, working. But that didn’t happen.

Here’s the alternative. Imagine you are just coming out of a fitful sleep and don’t want to drag your sorry butt out of bed yet because things are way too fuzzy and the covers are feeling just perfect. As life comes back in pieces, what do you notice first? Scents? Sounds? Tactile things? The glow of light behind your window shades? The feeling that your three animals are all waiting for you to get over your reverie and feed them?

You lay there just long enough to enjoy the quiet in the house after the two responsible people you love have left for the day. You stretch and wonder what comes next. Have you been reborn? Nope. Just rebooted.

The date is November 6, 2006.

ADDENDUM: Paradise is in Southern California. I don’t always want to live here, but do, because it’s where my house, my family, and VBF are. Oh, and since I’m now unemployed, I have to say my husband works here, so it wouldn’t be easy to pull up stakes and move to Virginia where my sister just moved. I do appreciate the qualities of Paradise as much as a house potato can, but clearly I struggle since I’m in a room with blinds pulled, sitting in front of a monitor, and it’s probably a perfectly remarkable day out there.