Ten beautiful hours of sleep later…
I always look forward to Fridays because they’re one of my work-from-home freelance days. Which means I don’t set an alarm on Thursday night, and pajamas are my uniform I feel like it. Praise yeezus.
One of my neighbors just walked by with her dog; out for a morning stroll in the sunshine. It looks so lovely, and makes me believe I’ll adopt (A DOG) one day, but right now I’m loving on this hot cup of coffee and a little silence.
The silence. God, it’s great in this place.
This new townhouse I’m living in is beautiful…but funny. It has an updated kitchen, a spacious finished and carpeted basement, high high ceilings upstairs and down, and knocks it out of the park with natural light. But it’s kinda quirky, too. Like when the heat kicks on, only certain pockets of the house get toasty: the bathrooms, just the corner of my room, and a small section of the basement. I retreat to the living room and open the closets when I need to cool off.
I don’t know why I like that, but I do. I’m adjusting to this new living situation, and I’m doing better than I thought.
^^^ A parting gift from my great friend, Tim, when I left Tampa in September last year. I miss him every day, and Tampa lately, too.
Friends. I’m doing pretty well in that department, too.
On Monday (my second freelance day) I worked remotely from a local coffee shop—as remoters do, you know. I had just finished a chilly 6-mile run around my neighborhood and was getting settled before the emails flowed in.
*Sip. Refresh Mail. Sip. Refresh Mail.* I was the only one willing to park myself at a table outside on a gloomy 50* day in Boulder, but I rarely get to enjoy real oxygen during the week, so I take whatever I can get.
Between my refreshing and sipping and people-watching and sipping and refreshing, so many people walked by I knew and knew by name, not just face.
I didn’t just say hi but I asked them about their kids and their recent vacation and last week’s pilates class and their new job and their home renovations.
I realized, all at once between life chats and even welcome home hugs, I had friends, and lots of them. I don’t just know these friends, I know about them.
I’d finished my coffee by then—about 30 minutes after I’d sat down—but I kept sitting and refreshing and saying hi.
I was worried, you know. When I moved to Colorado in September, I was worried about the friend thing. Rather: the no-friend thing.
I didn’t have many in Tampa. I knew people and I knew of people, but when I went home after work and woke up on the weekends, I didn’t have a group to head to the beach with or get drinks with after a long sunburned day.
My nature is to recharge after a long day sitting at a desk in the office and the no-friends thing was the sad result of the effort I didn’t put into the friends thing.
I was worried I’d do that out here.
But before I left, and while I drove all my stuff from Florida to Colorado, over those hundreds of miles, I told myself that if I was going to make this big change and leave everything to live in Colorado, I’d need to nurture a new nature.
And when I got here, I got a job that helped me do that in a BIG way. These friends and their friends are a direct result of this new people-facing job, and I feel so happy and thankful for it.
In two weeks I’ll be attending an Ultimate Direction launch party. A new friend works for them, and we held up the line just to chat about all things endurance running and Barkley Marathons finishes.
And in a couple weekends I’ll be running with a new friend. For the first time in six years I’ll get to run with someone. (Epic, amazing, happy-cry story coming soon.)
I do miss Tampa, and I always will when I’m not there, and I’ll always enjoy a solo hike and bike ride here and there, but it’s nice to have plans, and friends to do them with.
Back to the freelance writing thing. Update: still in pajamas.
Push on, PUSH ANIMALS >>>