One thing I miss as a freelancer might be the clearly defined 'weekend'. Either my days all seem like an endless weekend or else they seem like an endless succession of Tuesdays. The clarity is missing.
But I remember the exhilaration that used to be associated with a Friday afternoon. Clear, unalloyed Freedom.
I suppose working by the time clock until Friday was a bit like rowing in a slave galley, pulling the oars to get through the week. But at least come the weekend, I could entirely drop anchor and drift.
Contrarily, as a self employed seafarer, work is more like sailing in a sailboat without an anchor. I have to keep an eye on the weather every day. And if I don't stay busy scheming all the time, I know I'm going to hit the rocks.
At least happy hour is the same for both... once the sun drops beneath the yardarm it's time to pour that glass of port.
Photo is of the glorious Puget Sound on a summer's day... from Discovery Park.
5 comments:
You drink port?
It's always Tuesday here, too. I never know what day it really is. Oh. but hey, it really IS Tuesday today!
Just a glass or two... at sundown.
Tuesday... ugh! Feels like the end of the world after a summery weekend.
Now where do I go? Oh, I know... Wednesday!
I'm seriously thinking about making weekends weekends again and just dropping my work from Friday 'till Monday morning.
I'm afraid of falling behind though. Saturday I worked all day and finished setting up the shopping cart for the Calderwood Book store. I'm technically challenged, so this was a lot of work for me. A normal person would have had all Saturday afternoon off. LOL.
A bit of Port is nice in a half of a cantalope melon.
Yes, working weekends is always problematic. You're damned if you do and damned if you don't sometimes.
My big problem is always trying to restart a cold engine on Monday morning...
Oh well... Monday is always a cold shower and slap in the face I guess.
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