the j.o.b.

by rantywoman

Interestingly, I’m not all that bothered about being alone on my days off.  Yes, I do reach a point where I get tired of going to events alone, but it takes me a while to get there.  Generally I enjoy my own company and never run out of things to do.

It’s the weekday slog that gets to me.  I slept like a baby during over the three-day-weekend, but last night I was tossing and turning again and revisiting that old feeling of “I hate my life.”  It’s the job, although not specifically this job.  It’s the 40-hour-workweek routine that I have just never cottoned to, even after two decades of trying.  It doesn’t suit me.  You would think I would appreciate having somewhere to go–a place where I had a role– but I would prefer to have more free time.  I don’t know if I will ever finagle that, but I still dream of working part-time.