Mondays are among the more tiresome of the weekdays, don’t you think?
These are the days when the bed has never been quite so comfortable, the kitties quite so adorable, the looming work week quite so, oh, I don’t know – duty-driven.
Don’t get me wrong. I love working, as is required by all Midwesterners; but I can’t help but wonder: Is this all there is?
Surely others are fulfilled by their careers, yes?
Perhaps I’m doing this wrong.
Get up early. Leave where you’d like to be, follow through on your agreement to rent your brain out by the hour, return home to find that everything you’ve not done there remains, mysteriously, undone; and then, as the plastic bottle says, rinse and repeat.
What am I missing?
Perhaps if there were costumes involved. I’m thinking clown suits on Monday – or perhaps clown suits on payday would be more apropos. What about Cowboy Tuesdays? I like the sound of Naked Thursday, but if we're wearing our birthday suits I suppose I'll have to get some of this ironed...
And is it too late to bring back drinking alcohol in the office on Friday afternoons?
I suspect it is.
It used to be almost commonplace, you know.
At any rate – but particularly at this one – I shall soon be reconsidering my stance on subsistence farming as a career path.
Doesn’t that sound nice?
I’m going to need a tractor, a shack (preferably one with a sauna and separate quarters for the servants), and a herd of chickens. Ooh, and a gaggle of those ankle-nipping dogs that herd your beasts...
I’m going to put as much thought into my forthcoming career as a farmer as I did in my current career.