One of yesterday’s lessons with the Korean students was about family members’ jobs. I was surprised to learn that three out of the five students’ fathers are soldiers. Anyway, then the kids asked about my job. I said I have several–I teach, I write, and I edit. They asked if I like my job, and I said, with a bit of surprise, that yes, in fact, I do. It’s wonderful to be able to say that again. I feel extremely fortunate that I’m able to squeak by doing things I enjoy, working hours that suit me more than 8:30-5:30 ever did, wearing several hats, and starting to cobble together some semblance of an income.

Once in awhile I think about the fact that I don’t have a car and I live in a tiny apartment, and I feel like I don’t have much to show for my adult life. But I feel that way far, far less than I did a year ago, when my mortgage was a trap rather than a sign of success and I regularly banged my head against the ceiling at work. Materially, I don’t have a lot (unless we’re talking books, skull t-shirts, It’s Happy Bunny! sweat pants, or gargoyles), but I have what I need. I’ve written a novel; I have three short stories slated for publication; I have solid professional experience and a degree that is finally starting to open doors. I live in an interesting city with a lot to do and explore, and I have friends to share experiences with. I’m happier with what I have to show for my life than I was a year ago.

Another piece of perspective came last week as I worked on a freelance project. Bishop, who (like many large dogs) thinks he’s a lap dog, was twisting and turning in the chair with me. I had a moment of angst trying to juggle him, the laptop, and the binder that contains my notes. And then I totally cracked up. At my old office, every day was a minefield of sniping, backstabbing, toxicity, cliques, exclusiveness, power struggles, criticism for failing to meet expectations that were never specified and/or asking for clarification re: those expectations, and an overall attitude that nothing but the job mattered to the people in charge and nothing had better be more important to you or you weren’t gonna get anywhere. Every day. And now my biggest “office” problem is that my dog wants to snuggle while I’m trying to type? What an awesomely happy problem to have!

And that, folks, is exactly why this rat bailed on a race I was losing anyway.