Six weeks. For six weeks, I suffered through bipolar episodes that teetered between hope, restless boredom and Sunday Scaries that would creep up before another week of unemployment. 

For six weeks I’ve sat on virtual calls, secretly playing with the toy yacht I got David for his birthday. When I gave it to him, I wrote something in the card like, “One day, I’ll buy you one of these.” (I will not be buying David a yacht because as he likes to say, if it flies, floats or f*cks, rent it.”) But that tiny little boat was my personal reminder that we have dreams and goals and a paycheck is a key piece of making those big things happen. I held on tight to this little plastic yacht figurine or moved it around between my fingers like it was a fidget spinner, it helped keep my nerves at bay while I sat struggling not to call someone a moron. 

For six weeks, I endured countless interviews that either validated my imposter syndrome or gave me a mild case of Tourette’s. Recruiters are either the loveliest people or trolls with a call quota to hit, no in between. One recruiter called me from the car while his two kids were screaming in the background and then had the audacity to loudly slurp the last sips of his empty iced coffee, right into the microphone. “Yeah, sorry Harry, it’s not gonna be a fit this time.” I rejected recruiters like they were trying to sell me their barely running cars and the ones I liked, I nagged like a twenty-something trying to keep the attention of a slutty bartender. 

Holy moly, these last six weeks felt like an existential crisis my years of therapy never prepared me for — Well, I am pleased to announce I am once again gainfully employed. Signed, sealed, delivered — I belong to a tech company that will afford me the privilege of overpriced jeans and the comfort of my home office. 

When these weeks started and had no end in sight, I made a list. An unemployment bucket list: things I’d like to do when I’m not applying for jobs like they’re a zero-gravity game of darts. I wish I could say I dedicated more time to this list and less time to frantically fighting for control over things beyond my control. But I now have two weeks to work my way through the last of my list — for now.  

So what did I put on this unemployment bucket list: 

• Clean out my closet, make space for new: I keep saying I’ll do this and I haven’t done it yet, but I swear I will! Or I’ll just wait until David and I have more space and then I won’t actually need to clean out my closet. It’ll actually be the opposite  — I’ll need to fill my closet(s) and I’m apparently much better at that than the cleaning out part.
  

• Write, write and write some more: It has felt so good to write again. I keep talking myself out of writing a book and then, when I can’t sleep, I wake up and start aggressively taking notes on my phone under the covers so I don’t wake David. I believe I’ll get this book out of me one day. If I was better with time management, I’d write anytime David commandeers our only television for Call of Duty —  can’t let the terrorists win. I know I need to wait to write this book until I’m ready to enjoy the process and remove any aspirations of the ending. For now, it has been a privilege to share my words here again.
  

• Apply to global entry: I finally crossed this off the list. Despite pouring my heart out on paper and agonizing over my hopscotch of homes and jobs, I mostly received, “How do you not have Global Entry!?” texts. Now, I just need to wait for border control to determine I’m no threat to society and may keep my shoes on in the airport security line.
  

• Repair my camera: I got this one out of the way quickly and I proudly dropped off my rolls of film for production yesterday. While I know my way around a camera, it’s fun to be a beginner at something. If I could break up with the tech world and take photographs on film for a survivable living, I’d start tomorrow. I have these great big waves of daydreams in which I’m delusional enough to think I might have myself a little gallery show by the end of the year. If there’s anything film photography has taught these shaky hands of mine, it’s patience. When you’re a deeply touchy feely person and you only have thirty four exposures to capture all the things that make you feel something, thirty four isn’t very many. So with great patience, I’ve walked around my favorite corners of the city, slowly, only collecting pieces of my favorite-favorite parts.
  

On the agenda for Terrific Marina Day:

• Ralph’s Coffee on Madison

• Central Park strolling

• The Guggenheim museum 

• Day brunch at Via Carota 

I knocked out all of these things in one day, between the hours of 8am and 3pm. I woke up, walked the dog and headed straight to midtown to snag one of the bistro tables outside of Ralph’s. I ordered a cappuccino and a chocolate croissant and watched how Manhattan starts the day, how the Upper East Side of New York dresses up to walk their dogs and how New York’s high-society mothers are built differently, with their heels and Bugaboo strollers. 

My camera and I strolled Central Park waiting for the Guggenheim to open. I always wanted to walk through the Guggenheim spiral. I wish I was someone who could peruse museums elegantly but I walk through museums like I’m doing a scavenger hunt, high on Vyvanse. By noon, I was in the West Village, sipping a negroni and ordering a lavish lunch at one of New York’s toughest reservations. The city feels exclusive during sunny afternoons when the streets are quieter and most are holed up in their offices. 

There are a few things I didn’t cross off the list just yet, and maybe I’m not supposed to crank these out in the next couple of weeks before I start my new big girl job. Maybe I’ll keep adding to this running list of things I say I’ll do that I deprioritize for no good reason at all — broadway shows, more solo dining on sunny afternoons, wandering parts of New York I never have a reason to explore, or just giving myself permission to watch hours of Netflix with the curtains drawn.

We should all make a list of the things we think of when we say, “I’ve always wanted to do that!” and go do those things. I can’t call unemployment a luxury. This time has been nothing short of maddening but in some ways, it is a luxury to wake up and choose what occupies your time and brain space, and in my case, what the source of my anxiety will be today (I joke). There’s never enough time for things we say we’ll do so I’ve found it’s best to go do those things anyway so they can vacate their silly list and become things we’re glad we did.