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Sometimes, I like to think to myself, Oh, my job is okay and all, but it would really be about ten times better if only X, where X = "we could work from home sometimes," or X = "we could bring our pets to work," or X = "I were actually paid the going market rate for my services," and so on. Okay, regardless of whether these things come to pass or not, I do fine. I may be underpaid, I may not be able to wear my footie pjs to work, but overall, I can't complain too loudly, even if I do sometimes quietly dream of ways to make everything just a little sweeter.
Amazingly, though, things have just got a little sweeter on their own! One of the X values I always wished for was the chance to work a 40-hour work week in four days, and get a three-day weekend as a tradeoff. This particular dream was born in the days when I discovered that many construction companies work this way, and was solidified when I worked more demanding jobs and would put in ten- and twelve-hour days as a matter of course in my five-day week; I used to use this dream as a sort of stress release, as I kissed my fiftieth or fifty-fifth manhour of the week goodbye.
And now this particular dream has come true! Due to rising fuel costs and some complicated schooling changes, and also the fact that a lot of people in the office commute from small outlying towns, our office has given us the option: we can work four long days a week or a more traditional work week, whichever we like, and I--despite the fact that I live about six minutes from my office--get the same option, because it wouldn't be fair to give some of us this option and not others, and I am not above taking advantage of this little loophole. Well! I will have regular two day weekends now, and on the occasional weekends the bookstore gives me, I will have three. I'm already trying to decide what to do with my semi-regular three-day weekends.
I know you want me to visit you, but you're too shy to say. Right? Because plane tickets from the Atlanta airport are pretty fucking cheap, is all I'm saying.
:::
I picked up my lovely and ludicrously sweet dog at the vet yesterday afternoon. She is so very beautiful and fuzzy in her freshly-groomed glory! And no matter how nice it always is--and it is, believe me, always nice--to be able to sleep the whole night through without having to go outside once or twice or (God forbid) three times, or not to have to make a fuss about her getting into the litterbox, every time I pick her up, I wonder how I've managed to get along so well without her.
I really don't know how people get along without pets. And I'm not sure why they'd want to, as much trouble as they can be.
Oh wait. STILL ITCHING LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS. Now I remember why.
Amazingly, though, things have just got a little sweeter on their own! One of the X values I always wished for was the chance to work a 40-hour work week in four days, and get a three-day weekend as a tradeoff. This particular dream was born in the days when I discovered that many construction companies work this way, and was solidified when I worked more demanding jobs and would put in ten- and twelve-hour days as a matter of course in my five-day week; I used to use this dream as a sort of stress release, as I kissed my fiftieth or fifty-fifth manhour of the week goodbye.
And now this particular dream has come true! Due to rising fuel costs and some complicated schooling changes, and also the fact that a lot of people in the office commute from small outlying towns, our office has given us the option: we can work four long days a week or a more traditional work week, whichever we like, and I--despite the fact that I live about six minutes from my office--get the same option, because it wouldn't be fair to give some of us this option and not others, and I am not above taking advantage of this little loophole. Well! I will have regular two day weekends now, and on the occasional weekends the bookstore gives me, I will have three. I'm already trying to decide what to do with my semi-regular three-day weekends.
I know you want me to visit you, but you're too shy to say. Right? Because plane tickets from the Atlanta airport are pretty fucking cheap, is all I'm saying.
:::
I picked up my lovely and ludicrously sweet dog at the vet yesterday afternoon. She is so very beautiful and fuzzy in her freshly-groomed glory! And no matter how nice it always is--and it is, believe me, always nice--to be able to sleep the whole night through without having to go outside once or twice or (God forbid) three times, or not to have to make a fuss about her getting into the litterbox, every time I pick her up, I wonder how I've managed to get along so well without her.
I really don't know how people get along without pets. And I'm not sure why they'd want to, as much trouble as they can be.
Oh wait. STILL ITCHING LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS. Now I remember why.
