Back

I've been back from SE Asia for . . . god, it's been over a month. And nothing much has changed in my life since the big return.

I've put on a few pounds. The food on the trip was often very good, but probably because I was trying not to eat meat, it was rare that a meal didn't include some fried noodles. And . . . I love fried noodles so they weren't small meals. And while I've been walking a fair amount, at the beach with my friend Zach, into the hills on old logging trails with my parents' dogs, it's springtime in Oregon and it rains a lot and I'm not walking enough to make up for the fried noodles of Vietnam and Cambodia and the whole wheat bagels with butter and blackberry jam of the Oregon Coast. That will have to change. I can't afford to buy bigger clothes!

I'm still not thinking seriously about my future. I've started getting little panic attacks whenever someone brings it up. My heart trips and my gut clenches and I think my pupils even dilate. I don't even want to think about thinking about it. Not seriously anyway. Casual thinking is fine. I don't mind having little day dreams about going to cosmetology school and learning to give facials and pedicures. Or getting into a massage therapy program. But actually looking into licensing requirements and finding a school? Um, no thanks. I know it would be insane to do something like that while I'm still paying for law school. And I'm not sure I'd even enjoy it. But . . . whatever. I can't think about it anyway. I can't believe I'm even writing it. Forget I said anything.

Other than my mental block about the future, or what happens when my savings runs out, I'm still very much enjoying this not working thing. My life is simple. Sugar and I cuddle in bed while I read mystery novels. I watch a LOT of television. Zach and I take long walks and sit on benches and talk about what life was like when we were 14 and living in this same town. When there's something vaguely appealing showing I drive 30 miles to the nearest decent movie theater. I spend hours at the public library, watching the weather change through the plate glass windows while I read blog after blog about other lives. I feel happier, more consistently, than I can ever remember being. That's weird, right? I mean on paper, other than the not having to go to work thing, even I think my life sounds dull, uninspiring, even boring, but it doesn't feel like that. Is it really possible that for me, the only things I really need to be happy, really happy, is one friend, one parent, one cat, beautiful scenery, satellite tv, a library card, no money worries, and endless free time?