I really, really like not working. (I know, you're thinking, who wouldn't? Well, hush up, we're talking about ME right now.) I think I was born in the wrong decade, possibly in the wrong century. I would be perfectly happy to stay home, clean the house, do the dishes and laundry, and mow the lawn. Obviously cooking is a sticking point, so we'll just skip right over that, since I am fortunate enough to have a man in my life that enjoys cooking.
July is a delightful time of year to be unemployed. I get to watch every stage of Le Tour de France. I get to go for walks every day. I spend hours reading and usually do some writing, too (well, journaling might be more accurate). I also spend a good amount of time job hunting because, unfortunately, I have bills that must be paid. Eventually my money will run out and I will be in trouble.
So I must hope to find a job before that happens, even though there is nothing out there in the world that I would rather be doing than what I am doing now. I am just not drawn to any career or calling. I have no passions that can be translated in to paying jobs (unless someone wants to pay me to walk or read? Yeah, I don't see that happening either.) Someone recently described my work history/life as being like that of a gypsy. While I think that is a bit of a stretch, I can only tolerate doing something unpleasant for so long. Given that I find working unpleasant, it is probable that I won't ever stay in one job for the decades (or lifetimes) typical of previous generations. I'll probably always be looking for greener grass.
In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy my unemployment while it lasts and try not to let worrying about finding a job or running out of money ruin it for me.