As of today, I have officially been a stay-at-home writer for a full week (yoga pants and fuzzy socks included).
Life in the "real world" couldn't be better. I love my new apartment, I think I'm really going to like my church congregation, and my husband and I are finally going to replace our four-year-old phones. We bought dishes yesterday, the thick fancy kind with dark colors that only come in square shape and I'm terrified of breaking. I feel like an adult.
As for my artistic endeavors, I'm not writing more than I did before because that was always a priority. Now I just have time to do other things too, like clean my house. I'm getting a real kick out of having dinner ready before my husband comes home. I'm like a Stepford wife, except I'm also awesome.
It still doesn't feel like I'm free living out my dreams; it just feels like a really long weekend. Part of me still thinks I'm going back to work tomorrow. It's weird how your whole life can change but you're still the same person.
I'm still trying to figure out how to schedule my days... ten hours is a looooong time to spend at home alone. We need to get a dog or something so that 5:30 pm doesn't find me with my nose pressed against the window waiting for my husband's car to pull up.
The fact that this is real didn't start to sink in until yesterday. I was at the laundromat waiting for my clothes to be done and went to the computer lab. Usually whenever I'm at the computer I zip through everything I need to do quickly because I don't have time to waste browsing.
This time, I let myself read blogs for an hour. I haven't allowed myself the luxury of just reading blogs for fun in ages, and I forgot how much I loved it. This is a hobby I can put back into my life now.
It's such a little thing, but it made me really happy.