It’s the first of two back-to-back weekends with Josh being away. Happily, Piglet and I have survived, and it doesn’t quite look like a bomb has gone off in here. Truly! I’m still in my pjs, with mommy’s little helper parked next to me in its rightful spot (Red Bull, for the uninitiated) and have done little of consequence other than the bare minimum to keep my kid and dog alive and not freaking out. I haven’t even eaten anything yet myself, unless you count the remaining dredges of a blueberry Yo Baby yogurt that Piglet declined to finish. (tangent, but the daycare teachers always say she eats all her food…why has she never yet performed such a feat for me?) But still, it’s much better than it could have been. We even went for a little constitutional around the neighborhood yesterday and bought a book from the darling food-themed bookstore on Lexington (called “Food Jobs”…don’t mock, it’s unkind), as well as a mesh feeder and toothpaste for the wee bairn. Today, I am cooking up some hoisin-glazed beef short ribs and mashed potatoes, and steaming up cauliflower for baby food. Gold star for moi!

Of course, the magical pixie dust that has allowed this all to happen is that I’ve had no (office) work to do this weekend. Shocking, true, and if I were to be perfectly honest, I probably could have manned up for something, but I just don’t care. The way I see it nowadays is that there will be plenty of opportunities to work on weekends for the rest of my life…I’m not going to seek it out. That would be crazy. And I have concluded that I am not crazy. At least not Biglaw Crazy.

Like for example…I have a colleague (super awesome guy, totally sarcastic bastard, which equals much love from me) who has this weird low platelet problem (?), and whose doctor is insisting that he not work more than eight hours a day – he apparently passed out while giving blood the other day. And yet he’s putting in 20+ hour days on our “big” banking case. He’s constantly sending me e-mails at 3, 4 am. Maybe my work ethic leaves something to be desired, but the mind…it boggles. We’re not surgeons, we’re not even criminal lawyers, where someone’s life or freedom is at stake. We’re litigators. We bury people in paper so as to extort money from them. Yes, that has its place in the corporate world, but in what universe is that worth killing yourself over? If you dropped dead in your office, they’d have the place repainted and a new body in there in under a week. I actually think I heard that from a partner, so I’m not being dramatic here. True story.

We’re gearing up for our move down to the financial district soon, but truth be told, I cannot wait to leave New York altogether. Manhattan, anyway. There are so many wonderful things about it, but it’s just not fun anymore – not the way it used to be. I don’t know if that’s a post-baby thing, or a post-recession thing, but so much of my lifestyle just doesn’t make sense. I even question whether I should have moved here in the first place. I have enjoyed the last few years, but in the end, am I further “ahead” than I would have been had I stayed in Toronto? Would I have been happier with less money and “prestige,” but maybe a bit of outdoor space and a barbecue and real friends on speed dial?

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