Scotching my plans

Today, I had fully intended to post a comparative analysis of 2006 world cup coverage on the American sports networks versus that on Spanish language television stations. And I promise that I will in the near future. The subject matter is so rich and the disparity of coverage is so indicative of the U.S.A's increasing xenophobia and self-reinforcing cultural isolation that I just can't resist the opportunity to pick it apart a little.

That's not to say that I am not watching the World Cup.
In fact I'm currently enthralled by a match between Sweden and Paraguay (two nations whose sudden deletion from the planet I might, under other circumstances, not even notice).
But I'm not blogging about it.

Oh no.
Instead?
I'm drinking scotch.

To recap, for those of you joining this blog already in progress..
I am currently:

Unemployed.
At home.
On the couch.
Watching soccer.
On Univision (and therefore in Spanish)
Incidentally, I don't speak Spanish.
And having a Scotch.

Yes, I do realize how incredibly bad that sounds.
And yes, I do know that this behavior is making the already mentally fragile dog even MORE nervous, as befits any small creature who suddenly discovers that Mom has morphed into a Latina wino before it's astonished little eyes.
And it is true that once I post this my sweet befuddled spouse will call home to "check in" and that a valid explanation will be necessary.

But frankly?
I blame Steve.

OR rather, I blame his readers.
There's a running debate in the comments section of yesterday's post on "The Sneeze" regarding the proper way to acquire a taste for Scotch Whiskey.

Opinions about Scotch are nearly as numerous as those regarding child rearing, and as devisive as those about religion.
Some people hate the stuff, likening it to everything from piss to petrol to mulch.
Others love to indulge in a highland fling, but insist that there is only ONE proper way to do so (neat, with water, with ice, while listening to Mel Torme and soaking in a bathtub full of goats' milk...you name it, everyone got a preference.)
Though my favorite comments were from those readers who disliked not Scotch itself, but rather those people who make a big deal out of drinking it, whiskey snobs.

Needless to say, by the time I finished reading all the posts, I was feeling utterly overwhelmed by all the opinions and more than a bit thirsty.

That brings me to where I am now, firmly astride my couch, dog at my side, glass in my hand.
All in all, not a bad day.
As the announcer on the television might say:

GOOOOOOOOOOOAAAALLLLLLLLLL!

keeping score

Since I've become unemployed, it has been surprisingly difficult to transition out of "go-getter" mode. It's not that I would ever have described myself as a die-hard career girl, but it's just so easy to fall into measuring yourself solely against the yardstick of your job. Without the built in barometer of success and failure provided by project objectives, it's tricky to determine where one stands on a daily basis.

Back when I was an employee of Faceless Corp, a typical workday would involve tasks or interactions that could be classified as either positive or negative. Like so:

• arrive at the office early, refreshed and alert (+)
• over sleep due to Befuddled Dog's midnight antics, arrive 1 hour late, bleary, disheveled, angry (-)
• eloquently present and successfully defend an event idea in a group meeting (+)
• fall asleep and drool on notebook in a group meeting(-)
• get positive client feedback on a recent event (+)
• be forced to repeatedly explain budgetary projections to a visibly impaired, notoriously alcoholic managing director (-)

Based on the overall number of positive or negative variables in any given day, I would have a general sense of where I fell on the zero-to-hero scale. Now that I'm not working, this kind of feedback loop has become harder to use. Instead of chipping away at an endless stack of paperwork and planning conference after conference in quick succession, I find myself trying to quantify the positive or negative impact of truly mundane tasks. Judging my performance is no longer as simple as ticking off boxes on my to-do list.

If still haven't showered at 2PM on a weekday, is that okay? What if I have already also walked the dog, and made several phone calls to the insurance company trying to wrangle my Cobra paperwork into submission? What if I shower, but spend a couple of hours online at several of my favorite blogs? If I mentioned the possibility of doing the laundry, but just don't have the wherewithal to drag my sorry ass to the Laundromat, does baking a loaf of homemade bread for dinner balance that out? Basically, how does one know when the line to utter sloth has been crossed?

Oh, and do I get any kind of extra points for blogging about it?

Assumptions

Assume that you're a 30ish female living a cozy, if somewhat unglamorous urban life with your beloved spouse and your small clinically insane dog.

You have hitherto been gainfully employed in the financial services industry.
Let's say that your most recent employer, a large well known entity who shall be known only as "Faceless Corp", has decided to give you (and a sizeable group of your co-workers) a somewhat unceremonious Heave-ho.

Due to the circumstances of this separation you're suddenly left with no job (obviously), a nice little bump of cash (excellent!), and scads of free time. (what's that exactly?)

Suppose that you and your husband run the appropriate budgetary numbers, take a long hard look at your lifestyle and hash out the 5 year plan. The net result of these calculations might be that this is a great opportunity for you to take some time off from the ratrace and have that hypothetical baby you've been riding his ass about for the past 4 years.
(Not that the decision to start a new life is anything less than wonderful, and no member of any loving couple has ever been reduced to tears, shouting or vague unspecified threats to the male partner's genetalia over the issue. Nope. Not at all. Not us. And certainly not me. ahem.)

So while you find yourself living the existence of a 1950's housefrau, who cleans, cooks, and waits with baited breath to fulfill her ultimate feminine purpose by concieving and giving birth to the uber-children of her bread-winning mate, you may also find a gaping hole in your self-perception where your career, earnings and general 9-5 ass-kicking lifestyle used to be.

Based on those assumptions, what's a girl to do ?

Of course there any number of tried-and-true ways to alleviate the monotony.
Here's a sampling of choices:

1. Get a hobby (preferably a craft of some sort)
2. Take a class (maybe a language or something genteel and self-improving)
3. Start a small business from home. (something pet or food oriented perhaps?)
4. Take an exercise class or two at the gym. (This is fairly unimpeachable)
5. Throw your frustrated abilities into charitable causes. (Like a job..without the pay..hmm.)
6. Threaten the already fragile mental health of your ten pound terrier by carrying her around like a human child and instructing her in various subjects including but not limited to: "Republicans: why biting them is ok", "Ryan Seacrest: why biting him is ok" and her favorite, "Barak Obama: why biting him is not ok for you, but secretly mommy really wants to. You know, just a little in that good way".
7. Start a blog

So if you're my dog, or if you're reading this, you already know what I've chosen.

In either case, good luck with that.