Is it starting again?

While getting ready for the New Year's Eve party, I received a call from a friend who is working in a lawfirm in Manhattan.
"Give me your CV," she said.
"Why?" I asked, feeling alarmed. She was in Vermont snowboarding, what could she possibly want to do with my curriculum vitae?
"My boss is hiring people so I want to give him your CV," she said.
"Oh. Right. OK," I said, before adding on, "Thank you."
"Get it ready by Monday, OK?" she said.

M. was looking as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.
"Do you want to work there?" he asked.
"Well, having a job is better than being unemployed," I said.
"Not really. I don't want you to be stressed again," he said. "I mean, I want you to do something, of course, but, never mind. We'll talk about this later."

It's been six weeks and a day since I left the law. Since then, I have never had a bout of insomnia because I was worrying about a document or stomach cramps in the morning because I was so stressed at the thought of going into the office. What's even more impressive is that I haven't shouted at anyone, had a bout of crazy adrenalin-fuelled hysteria, or been drinking more than two glasses of wine a day except on New Year's Eve. Once, one of M.'s friends brought her Blackberry to the pub we were having drinks in, and I realised with a shudder of relief that it had been over a month since I had held one of those in my hands.

Instead, I've been happily burning cookie dough, randomly practising yoga, playing house with M. and surfing the Internet. In a fit of wild optimistic energy, I enrolled in a creative writing class and I may go to a cupcake workshop.

It is no wonder that I had nightmares last night. I woke up three times choking and shaking, waking up M. too. Who wouldn't get the shivers at the thought of giving up a carefree happy-go-lucky lifestyle only to get back into the grindmill of private practice?