I’m eight days old today. I don’t know if I ever thought through this journey of trying to find a different job that I would be this old. Not to be mislead, I’ve not been hitting the job trail as hard as I should. Sickly, I’m still rather enjoying my time off, though I know it needs to end. I don’t feel eighty days old today. I should probably feel depressed by my job prospects and discouraged about the future, but I don’t. I can’t help enjoying the time that I have left (does that sound morbid or what?). It makes me wonder about what I’ll actually be like at age 80, as in years. I wonder when I’m that old and I look back at my life what I will have accomplished. I wonder if I’ll have had kids. I’ll wonder of my career, husband, and friends. Will I be in some facility? Heck, will I even be alive? 80 years makes 80 days look young.
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