Today I Didn’t Find Work – Yet Found Purpose in the Everyday Moments

Today wasn’t a work-day — at least, not the window-cleaning kind. No squeegees, no ladders, no ocean-view glass panels. But still, something meaningful got earned — just not the kind of thing you’d ever see on an invoice.

First stop was the local op shop. I donated a pile of things I’d once thought I needed — bits and pieces that I had clung for long and now were forgotten memories that didn’t belong in my new chapter.

Giving them away felt like unpacking my past and handing it over for someone else to make use of.

The manager, a female friends thanks to small-town living on Kangaroo Island (and via Facebook), greeted me by name. I’d popped in just to check if they were open all day — but found myself wandering the aisles. I’d donated heaps of clothes a month ago but saw none of them. Instead, I spotted an XL long-sleeved pullover and a ceramic brown sugar pot.

As I approached the counter, my friend in the next room called out, asked how I was, offered quiet encouragement. When the cashier went to ask for payment, I heard those oh-so-welcome words:
“No payment required.”
That moment alone filled me with something warmer than gratitude — it felt like being seen.

Next stop, the local hardware store. I’d already tried their opposition but couldn’t find a wok within budget. When I asked if they had any, the manager grinned and said,
“Ah, a wok — what you thwow at a wabbit when you don’t have a wifle.”

Classic. I told him my budget, which I knew was pushing it. He walked me to the kitchen section, handed me the perfect wok — solid, generous in size, slightly flat-based for both electric and gas. He walked me to the register and knocked almost 33% off the price. Generous to a fault.

That simple exchange — his humour, my honesty — sparked something rare in me: I felt genuinely good. Like really bloody good. I reckon I left that place grinning like a bloke who’d just won the meat tray down at the pub.

Instead of heading home, I wandered through Drakes. Not rushed. Not distracted. Just properly present.

For the first time in years, I actually enjoyed the shop. I compared prices, read labels, chose ingredients not just by cost but by flavour. I imagined meals. Not just feeding myself — feeding joy.

And somewhere between the tinned tuna and rice crisps, I muttered to no one in particular,
“I’d make someone a great husband.”
Then it hit me — I already was.
Not to someone else, no longer to Sarah…
Now only to myself. ^#1

And standing in the Asian food aisle, I felt something unexpected: gratitude for my ex-wife. Because without that ending between us, I’d never have tasted this freedom. I wouldn’t have discovered this joy in choosing, preparing, and cooking. I’d have kept chasing the dopamine hit of buying more, owning more, stuffing shelves to feel full, yet having nothing and nobody.

Now I’m letting go of things I clung to for way too long. Sure, there’s still half a tonne boxed up in a shed somewhere, waiting for my next address — but I’m not in those boxes anymore.

Turns out, today wasn’t about finding work.
It was about finding worth within myself.
And I reckon that’s more than enough.

#1. I’d love to find love again. This time just someone to enjoy a happy life with me, just the two of us. Beach walks, photography, writing our thoughts, enjoying each other’s time and energy, and happy with our foibles, quirks and differences.