So, it's Friday - huzzah! We have survived another week. My mom and sister and mom's dog NEARLY did not. Some moron in a cube van ran and intersection and hit two other vehicles before smacking into my Mom's car. Is it selfish of me to be glad that those other two cars got in the way? The lady in the first car had to go to hospital - I pray she's all right. The guy in the second car was okay. Mom and Karen and Tian (the dog) are ok, although since Karen has previous vehicle-incident injuries (bad back and neck) and Mom's prone to back pain also, I have told them both to be vigilant about any stiffness or soreness in the next little while. Mom's car is - broken.
Luckily the nice insurance people got them a rental car right away, and there was a Good Samaritan lady in the van behind Mom's car who kept the dog contained (and reasonably calm) and then hung around and drove Mom and Karen home. And Dad came home from work early, and everyone is ok. Which is good, because when the phone rings and someone says there's been a car accident, it's scary.
Me, I've got through about 70% of the paperwork hell at my day job this week. I will be going into the office tomorrow (yes, I know it's Saturday) to try and do about 20% more of it. That leaves the rest of March to finish the last 10% and deal with the "normal" workload. I also have a term paper due a week from Monday, so I've taken off NEXT Friday to do that. And Sunday I start back to the store, because as much as I like having weekends of leisure, I much prefer having bills paid and a little bit left over for a Starbucks (or, *sigh*, some yarn) now and then.
I have some friends (good friends, caring friends) who say I work too much. And, they might be right, but I was thinking - it's only from about the mid-20th century onward that there has been this culture of entitlement to leisure. And then, only in certain parts of our culture. Really - think about it. If I were a farmer and had livestock, would people say "Hey, you're working too hard, stop feeding those animals two days a week!" ? Farmers work seven days a week, 365 days a year. So do most restaurant people. So do many others. So what's wrong if I do it? Don't get me wrong, I love to sit on my arse and goof off, watch TV, knit, read, play golf, go to movies, hang out with people. BUT - I'm starting to see that time as a reward for my work, not work as an interruption of my leisure. Maybe it's that responsibility gene kicking in, maybe it's adulthood finally hitting me. Maybe it's just that I don't feel I need to apologize for how I live my life.
I *like* to work. I *like* to study and learn new things. I *like* to have my bills paid, my laundry clean, my house reasonably tidy and my fridge and freezer full of food, preferably that I've cooked. There's still time for relaxation. Someone said to me, shortly after Peter's mom died, "No one ever said on their deathbed, 'I wish I spent more time at work.' " That's probably true. But when I'm on mine, I'd like to be able to say "I worked hard for what I had. I earned my happiness."
Ok, so that was long and self-indulgent and maybe a little self-righteous. (Ok, maybe a LOT). But that's just how I'm feeling about things lately.
The first sleeve of Peter's sweater is half done. There, knitting content. Now I'm going to enjoy my Friday night of leisure, which I've earned.
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