Well, it happened again. Another week off (I usually take two a year, one in the spring and one in the fall) passed in a surreal flash.
Many would remind me how lucky I am to have a job that allows me to drop everything for a week and get paid anyway. I don’t disagree. But there is of course another way to look at it: think of the potential boost to my general well-being if I didn’t ever have to do… THAT… again.
Realistically, the question of whether I’d be better off depends on so many variables it is almost worthless to ponder. But it is all too tempting to ponder while staring down the barrel of a Monday.
I should mention that I am not a vegetative vacationer. I wake up workday-early, I start the morning with exercise (and take care of my health in a number of other ways), I work through to-do lists, I teach myself to do random things, and I make serious art under self-imposed deadlines. My regimens easily consume a standard workday, and more often than not I have a good deal to show by the end.
I do light patches and repairs. I schedule maintenance if needed. I organize and re-organize. I have made $120 this weekend casually selling things we don’t need anymore.
If you want to know – though I’d be on the constant lookout for ways to contribute to the partnership – if given the opportunity to not work in the traditional sense, I would take it. Mind you, in my eyes this is not a concept that has a biological sex. If dudes can swing the same thing in a situation with mutual respect, I salute them.
(Just a slice of honesty here that I thought was important to admit.)