It had to end, but that didn't make it any easier. After seven and a half months of living without a day job, I found myself being trained in the shipping/receiving room of a violin shop, packing and unpacking bowed instruments. Even with all of the "time off" I had, I can't say I was thrilled to become part of the daily work force again. Partly because I have to get up at eight in the morning now, but mostly because I was really good at living a bohemian life.

I was able to pull this off because I'm a minimalist with few obligations. I have no wife or kids. I have no credit card debt, student loans, or outstanding payments. I pay for rent, utilities, food and entertainment. In seven months, I spent roughly six grand. Not too shabby.

What did I do in lieu of a day job?

I wrote. With all the time in the world on my hands, I found myself lacking excuses to complete a few writing projects. I completed a lengthy screenplay about the life of political machine boss named Tom Pendergast for some people in Kansas City. The script is now being shipped off to New York where it will passed around by people I have never met. I also completed a shorter screenplay entitled The Purest which is based on a story I wrote the year before. It is not being shipped off anywhere and no one knows what to do with it. Add in a handful of short stories, a weekly column, freelance work and e-mails, and I lived up to my writing status.

I read. There are more literary masterpieces than any one person could possible read. I know I will never get around to them all. I'm not the swiftest reader in the world, and when I read an especially powerful section, I have to put the book down for the day and reflect. With a day job, a good book could take me months. With time being free, however, I was able to tackle many a fine book. Here's a quick list of the novels I read or reread this year: The Red Pony, Nine Stories, Moby Dick, On The Road, The Virgin Suicides, The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses Over The Hills, White Rabbit, Cat's Cradle, Slaughterhouse Five, and The Sun Also Rises.

I exercised. Push ups, sit ups, mountain biking, hiking, lifting weights, stretching, playing catch with a baseball, kicking a soccer ball, and walking. When you're not inundated by adult contemporary radio stations, copy machines, screeching Internet connections and the hum of fluorescent lights, you can actually hear and feel what your body is saying to you. There is a lot of merit in wearing yourself out by moving around, and if you don't take it too seriously, it becomes something to enjoy.

I watched movies. Night time, matinees, art houses, the buck-fifty theater, DVDs, and videos. I bought, borrowed, and rented more movies than I could possibly list here, and there's still so many good ones that I haven't seen. With hundreds coming out each year, movie viewing will always be a insatiable task. It was nice to put a dent in the hull, though.

I hung out with other people, I hung out with myself. I meditated. I listened to music of almost every variety imaginable. I went on road trips. I played my saxophone. I slept in late some days and got up early on others (my alarm clock stayed silent). I worked hard on personal projects, but sometimes I did nothing at all. I flirted with women, successfully and unsuccessfully. I made friends, I made acquaintances, I made contacts. As far as I know, I didn't make any enemies. I designed sound for a play, I assistant directed another play, and I'm now acting in yet another. I wandered around with no purpose whatsoever and couldn't get enough of it. I woke up every day wondering what I was going to do. I smiled.

One of my aunts came to town to visit her daughter, and I took her on a hike in the Sandia Mountains. I explained my lifestyle to her and she said "You talk as if you were retired." My response was "I am retired. We'll see how long I can make it last."

Well, I made it last seven and a half months. Monday morning I will be packing and unpacking instruments. I will add my car to the line going to and from wherever people go for their workday. But I know what my ultimate goal is--I want to come back to this lifestyle. I accomplished more personal ambitions in the first part of this year than I did during the two and half years of my last job.

Now, the alarm clock is set, and I have a lot less to say about what I do with the day. At least I'm getting paid for it.

Chris Jungle will be eligible for social security in 43 years.