My Bubble

I said I’d keep you posted. My interview for this morning was cancelled …. at 9:30 last night. Lucky for me, I hadn’t gone to bed already and subsequently woken up early and killed myself to get ready to go downtown with Mike at 6:30am and not find out until I was downtown on this chilly, rainy day, all dressed up that I had absolutely no where to go. And by get ready, I mean try on ten outfits until I found one that was professional but not threatening. Classy but not provocative. Comfortable but not slobbish. Do my hair so no grey strays peeked through. Do make up so I looked younger and brighter than I feel. However, I had already spent a couple of hours researching the right answers to all the behavioural and circumstantial questions I was going to be asked and somehow connect them to the job description I was given and then- I got the email. This particular phenomenon had never happened to me before. Not sure what it all means yet.

So I decided to live in my own bubble today. I slept in … well stayed in bed… as I listened to the rain pelting the roof of our deck right outside our bedroom window. I pulled the warm covers closer around me and took in the softness of the pillows and cozyness of the bed. Mother Nature finally dragged me out of my cacoon and the iciness of the ceramic tiled floor I had to walk over wrecked my little moment in time. I made myself a leisurely breakfast and then repeatedly opened the pantry door to peruse the organized cleanliness that now exists due to my spontaneous urge to haul everything out of it last night and put the good stuff back, switching the location of absolutely everything so no one will be able to find anything anymore. In my experience, kids and husbands can’t seem to find most things on the best of days…at least now they have a legitimate excuse. I think it was pre-interview jitters. I needed to do something distracting.

I am writing this as I sit in front of my studio computer watching ‘You’ve got Mail’ and ‘Sleepless in Seattle’…listening to all the great music of their sound tracks, munching on taco chips and real cheese, still in my pyjamas, browsing Pinterest, house to myself… it’s like I’m in heaven. Bliss. Nobody can make me forget reality like Meg and Tom, unless of course it’s Steve Martin and Dianne Keaton. I’m feeling a slight bit guilty as everyone else in the family is out working but not THAT guilty. I mean, hey, if I hadn’t been laid off I’d still be getting up every morning and be at work myself and loving it. Thriving. Being at home was not my choice. However, enjoying being at home is.

When I operate in my bubble it’s a lot like Maxwell Smarts dome of silence. I hear nothing just the beat of my own heart. In my bubble there is nothing evil or horrendous going on in the world. There are no hurricanes or floods, no questionable political leaders, no people dying of anything, no financial stresses, no depression, no homelessness, no terrorism, no human trafficking ….just beautiful, comforting, feel good thoughts and feelings. Only good vibes. In my bubble there is hope and healing. There is music and truth (the Word). There is prayer and laughter. There is peace and joy. It is well with my soul. The pollution of the world can’t get in. Maybe that’s why I love my bubble so much.

But I also know I have a responsibility to fight for peace, freedom and justice for those that can’t fight for themselves. I have a responsibility to encourage, support and serve others. I must leave my comfort zone and spread love, kindness, and generosity. So I can’t spend too much time in my bubble. But my bubble is a wonderful reprieve where news is not watched, radio is not on, newspapers not read, phones not answered and fake internet news not grabbing my attention. I think I’ll spend the night in my bubble. I have to go out in the world tomorrow so I’ll have to burst it then.

Oh yes, I have to phone the HR gal from the cancelled interview company tomorrow morning so that could go either way. But I’m not going to think about that tonite. I’ll think about that tomorrow, after all, tomorrow is another day.