Far Niente

So I've had an unexpectedly quiet weekend.  Jack came down with the flu (like, the mother of all viruses) Saturday night.  It's Monday at 5:30 p.m. and he still hasn't come downstairs.  He's in quarantine.  I think it's the sickest I've seen him; if it's anything like the flu I had a few weeks ago, he has to feel like absolute crapola.  

I planned to have a quiet weekend.  As though I jinxed myself, we had a huge snowstorm on Friday night and into Saturday.  I didn't go anywhere and happily stayed on my couch in Adidas pants, roaring fire in the fireplace.  I gave up wine for Lent but with the circumstances at hand (done with job and truly unemployed for a few days), it was time to open a bottle of 2012 Far Niente.  

Far Niente: "the art of doing nothing."  

And I truly did nothing.

We sat and watched the snow fly, drinking beautiful chardonnay, listening to Louis and Ella.  Louis and Ella is like audio valium.  My already lightened shoulders began to relax even more.  

Then Jack got sick that evening.  So I moved out of the bedroom and into the guest room and bath.  It's kind of like a get-away.  In my own house.  

So I've pretty much been alone in the house even though I can hear Jack walking around upstairs.  The ghost of Jack.  Ha. 

I just can't tell you how grateful I am to be out of hospital management.  I had to talk myself into it back in 2009, where I convinced myself I was all badass and could play ball in the big leagues with the big guys.  And I could and did...but it was at a price.  It certainly took its toll.  The other day, I tried to think of who I was before I took the Chicago gig and had I really changed that much?  I took today and tomorrow off to rest...I've been running this marathon for years now and my legs are exhausted.  So is my heart.  

I had a massage this afternoon, a two hour massage with my all-time favorite massage therapist.  I swear, his fingers get in between the very vertebrae of my back.  It's very painful but after a hot bath when I get home, I feel like a new human.  Couple that with the feeling that I have, for the past six years, been carrying around a huge camping backpack (picture Reese Witherspoon in "Wild") and left it behind.  In leaving the job, I left that massive backpack by the side of the road.  I left work on Friday and felt a million tons lighter.  

My wonderful staff threw me a huge going-away party.  They gave me so many presents - my favorite was a huge poster board card that all 500 people signed.  But they also chipped in to get me a stunning Pandora bracelet (my two favorite charms are a Notre Dame football helmet and Franciscan cross), a 12-pack of Easy Mac, several pounds of M&M's, caffeinated Crystal Light, and wine.  It dawned on me that that's pretty much what I lived on at St. Gonzo's: mac and cheese, M&M's, and crystal light (and wine!).  My staff cracked me up and at least 30 of us crowded into one frame for a fantastic selfie.  

But as my assistant helped me pack up my car with my loot, I felt joyous.  Excited.  Very relieved.  I was tempted to blare Alice Cooper's "School's Out" when I drove away from the hospital.  Even though I will be back for meetings (in two weeks), I won't have to run part of the place.  

I'm thrilled to be able to be "me" in my new job.  Not that I wasn't me in my last few jobs.  But there was a forced-ness to it all, where I felt as though I had to sell my authenticity.  Isn't that the funniest concept ever?  In my new position, even though I really don't know what it entails yet, I have a feeling I will get to be myself.  They want me to be myself.  Not some badass Big League executive.  Just me.  

I no longer have to work really hard to become what I should be.  I just get to be that person now.

It's a relief.  A tremendous relief.