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smackenzieIt was weird taking the bus before 5, with a banker's box full of stuff you'd accumulated in three years of law clerking. Val tried to look like this kind of thing was perfectly normal for him, on the assumption that if he put up a good enough front, it would become reality. He felt weirdly calm. Maybe the false front was working.
He tried not to think too hard about how badly he'd probably screwed himself. No current job, no future job, no idea what he wanted to do other than "not what I was doing before". He had a pretty good idea how much money he had in the bank, but he hadn't sat down and worked out exactly how long he could live off it, and how long he could stretch it if he had to. He wondered if he could get an extension on his school loans, now that he was (hopefully temporarily) unemployed.
He knew he'd have to get a job in the fairly immediate future, and he knew he'd eventually have to do some serious thinking about what to do with the rest of his life, now that it seemed that law school wasn't it. But not right this second. He was pretty sure that if he started thinking about it now, he'd panic, and he didn't want to panic. He especially didn't want to panic on a city bus.
And all things considered, Val had to admit it was kind of nice to be free of the clutches of Caswell Velez Malcolm and Simonson while the sun was still out.
He idly thought about what he could do with his free time, now that he had it. He was constitutionally incapable of sleeping late, but he could sleep later than he had been. He could swim longer, and at different hours. He could read books, and not just during his commute. He could go to the movies. He could learn how to cook better. He could have Aidan and Stella over for dinner and at least start to pay them back for all the times they'd fed him. Maybe he could even get a haircut.
Nah.
By the time Val got home, he had a plan. It made him feel better to have a plan. He'd slack off for a week, rest, relax, do all those things he couldn't do when he was working, and then he'd start looking seriously for another job. He wasn't sure if he was going to use his week off to think about what else he might want to do with his life, but he figured he'd try to consider new career options, even if he didn't research anything in any detail. He was a little sick of research right about now.
He dropped the banker's box of stuff on the couch and went into his room to change his clothes. He checked the voicemail out of habit, remembered he had to call his mom, and checked his cell phone, which had rung three times on the commute home. He'd ignored it at the time, but what if it was someone he wanted to talk to....
It was Aidan. All three times. All with some variation on "I can't believe you up and quit".
"Believe it," Val muttered at his cell. He'd wait until about six and then call Aidan back. He should probably call his mom tonight too.
Oh shit. What was he going to tell his mom? She'd raised him to be economically self-sufficient and she'd supported him (financially when possible, but always emotionally), but while she always said she wanted him to be happy in whatever he did, he highly doubted "whatever he did" included "quitting his job because he got sick of doing other people's research". Besides, she'd worry that he was one electric bill away from being destitute, and he didn't want her to worry about him.
He'd be fine. He knew he'd be fine. He'd take some time off, he'd find a new job, he wasn't a big spender anyway, he'd be ok.
words: 681
total words: 31,095
He tried not to think too hard about how badly he'd probably screwed himself. No current job, no future job, no idea what he wanted to do other than "not what I was doing before". He had a pretty good idea how much money he had in the bank, but he hadn't sat down and worked out exactly how long he could live off it, and how long he could stretch it if he had to. He wondered if he could get an extension on his school loans, now that he was (hopefully temporarily) unemployed.
He knew he'd have to get a job in the fairly immediate future, and he knew he'd eventually have to do some serious thinking about what to do with the rest of his life, now that it seemed that law school wasn't it. But not right this second. He was pretty sure that if he started thinking about it now, he'd panic, and he didn't want to panic. He especially didn't want to panic on a city bus.
And all things considered, Val had to admit it was kind of nice to be free of the clutches of Caswell Velez Malcolm and Simonson while the sun was still out.
He idly thought about what he could do with his free time, now that he had it. He was constitutionally incapable of sleeping late, but he could sleep later than he had been. He could swim longer, and at different hours. He could read books, and not just during his commute. He could go to the movies. He could learn how to cook better. He could have Aidan and Stella over for dinner and at least start to pay them back for all the times they'd fed him. Maybe he could even get a haircut.
Nah.
By the time Val got home, he had a plan. It made him feel better to have a plan. He'd slack off for a week, rest, relax, do all those things he couldn't do when he was working, and then he'd start looking seriously for another job. He wasn't sure if he was going to use his week off to think about what else he might want to do with his life, but he figured he'd try to consider new career options, even if he didn't research anything in any detail. He was a little sick of research right about now.
He dropped the banker's box of stuff on the couch and went into his room to change his clothes. He checked the voicemail out of habit, remembered he had to call his mom, and checked his cell phone, which had rung three times on the commute home. He'd ignored it at the time, but what if it was someone he wanted to talk to....
It was Aidan. All three times. All with some variation on "I can't believe you up and quit".
"Believe it," Val muttered at his cell. He'd wait until about six and then call Aidan back. He should probably call his mom tonight too.
Oh shit. What was he going to tell his mom? She'd raised him to be economically self-sufficient and she'd supported him (financially when possible, but always emotionally), but while she always said she wanted him to be happy in whatever he did, he highly doubted "whatever he did" included "quitting his job because he got sick of doing other people's research". Besides, she'd worry that he was one electric bill away from being destitute, and he didn't want her to worry about him.
He'd be fine. He knew he'd be fine. He'd take some time off, he'd find a new job, he wasn't a big spender anyway, he'd be ok.
words: 681
total words: 31,095
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no subject
Date: 2008-11-20 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-20 11:50 pm (UTC)