Here it is, Saturday morning, I got to sleep in until 9:15am.
It's absolutely gorgeous outside, my cats are running around tormenting each other...life is good.
However this is all an illusion.
This is the Countdown To Monday Morning And Going Back To Work.
The minute 5pm hits on Friday afternoon, everyone rushes out (regardless if they're supposed to leave at 5 or not). See, we're all in a race. It's a race to see who'll max out their weekend, who will use their time best, who will ENJOY it more, who won't have wasted it.
The worst is when you get to Sunday late afternoon: that's when you know it's all coming to an end.
I absolutely hate working. I really do. I just can't grasp this notion that for 50 years, i'm supposed to spend the majority of my waking days doing something for someone else to benefit. So by Sunday night, the pit in my stomach is so huge, I can't even enjoy the rest of my night.
I feel like screaming "Does no one see how bizarre all this is?!". First off, what happened to "9 to 5"? 'Cause really it's 8 to 5 with a one hour unpaid mandatory lunch hour somewhere in there. And if you live in California, then you've got one hell of a commute...so even if you get off work at 5, then odds are you're not home until 6 or 6:30. Factor in half an hour of just doing things like taking the mail in, feeding your pets, maybe filling up the car with gas, you really aren't settled in until 7pm.
Now let's say hypothetically you actually get the 8 hours of sleep that is advised...then you need to be in bed by 10pm.
That means that between 6am to 7pm, you're working for the man....and then you get 3 hours all to yourself which pretty much consists of what...doing laundry, eating, watching tv...not like you can go off and enjoy anything on only 3 hours.
What's my point? My point is:
- working sucks
- commuting sucks
- "The Man" sucks
- I wish I were fabulously loaded and it's not fair my parents didn't grace me with a singing voice or uber good looks so I can be an actress
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