I am free like a bird

Someone sent me a tiny email. "What happened, NWM? Why are you (literally) non-working once again?". I cannot really answer the question in detail, not because I am gagged by the law*, but because the details don't matter.

All that's important is that I didn't sleep properly for about 8 months, put on about 25lbs and spent quite a lot of time having conversations like this with my husband, the French-Canadian veterinary research histopathologist - a man famous for his world-class ability to analyse all situations (even if about 'emotions', cakes, puppies etc) with forensically objective precision.

Me: This (insert incident) happened today. I am annoyed. Is it reasonable that I am annoyed?
Husband: Yes it is. You are not mad.
Me: That is a relief.

I am not one of those ghastly drippy people who are always complaining and needing a little lie down if they have to work more than 5 hours in one day. I get on well with about 95% of people I have worked with ever. I can do quite a lot at the same time, and I do not mind making decisions about things that might be quite important, standing up in rooms full of people and talking about things to them, taking responsibility for stuff, having difficult conversations, etc etc. Bref (as they say in some French-speaking nations), I am not a bloody wetsy and am quite resilient in a work-based situation. But this particular work situation got to me, and got to me good and proper.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, when I realised that the whole hoo-ha wasn't likely to change, I thought it might be better to get the cock out. So I resigned without a job to go to and (even better and/or worse, depending on how you see it), can't work until I get my Canadian residency through my husband**, which could take 3 months, or 6 months, or a bit longer.

But it is not so bad. I'm very, very fucking lucky that I have a "wonderfully supportive partner" (this set of words is worse than Sting and Trudie talking about their house in Tuscany, i.e. they are really really bad, but I can't think of a better expression) who can support me financially ("I will pay for your bus fare, but not your shoes"), and who had no question in his mind that I should get the cock out (not literally - I am a ladymonkey, so do not have a cock i.e. knob).

In fact, it's more than "not so bad". The first time I was non-working (nearly five years ago!!) I had a big wodge of cash to pay for sweets, crisps, the mortgage etc. This time, I do not have a wodge of cash, but someone else is there to cover the bills if and when my own money runs out (let alone all the hot love and/or support I'm getting from friends, family etc), so I have the freedom that most people don't have: the freedom of being able to walk away from a well-paid, not difficult (physically or practically) job that was making me unhappy.

Someone called me "brave". There is nothing brave about this because there's no real risk involved, and no-one's dependent on me (so at least it's not selfish, I suppose). I took the decision to stop doing something that wasn't doing me much good. Instead, I have dusted off my fez, taken the absinthe out of the back of the cupboard, and tapped out my small clay pipe. It is Spring, my friends, and in Spring all kinds of things happen, including one-eyed 94 year-old Montreal taxi drivers shouting: "New York hasn't got Jack Shit Dick Malone on London, lady".

Pip pip!

NWM

Coming soon: I am less serious, and speculate on possible activities and/or hobbies to take part in over this spring/summer season in Montreal. I urge you to make suggestions, and may well open up a sort of "Challenge NWM" type affair.


* Well I might be, but I haven't checked my contract for, oh, 2 years. And anyway, I'm not that important and it wasn't that exciting.

** long and boring story: but my work permit was linked to my job, so without my job, I have no work permit and therefore cannot work. Yes.