Monday I got an email from my boss from my last freelance assignment asking me to come into work today. They needed some help. Most people wrote on their Facebook status that they were unhappy to go back to reality, but I am very grateful for the work.
My three week vacation was great. A trip to New Orleans, holidays in New Jersey, then Dan and I spent most of the third week together in our sweats, eating leftover lasagna, watching The West Wing, going to bed late and waking up late, discussing our wedding. Occasionally, we went outside to go to the movie (Benjamin Button) or to go to the museum (photographer William Eggleston's exhibit at The Whitney), out to dinner or dessert, a little bit of shopping. It was fantastic to have my time open to nothingness. My phone didn't ring, no one emailed, my calendar clear: it was a relief.
The email came just in time. I was ready to go back. Four weeks might have been overkill.
This morning, I went to the gym for the first time since November. I put on make-up. I blow-dried my hair. I put on a dress. I made myself a salad for lunch. I threw myself into a crowd of people on the 6 train after I watched five packed trains go by. I greeted my coworkers and got the holiday and New Year's updates. I sat in my cubicle and did some work. I looked at wedding dresses online. I came home and made dinner and listened to Dan talk about his work. And now I am ready for bed.
Back to work, back to exercising, back to eating vegetables, back to boring. Back to Yvonne.