Different Strokes
I woke up Tuesday wishing I was independently wealthy and didn't have to go to work. There was nothing in particular about the job bothering me, it was just the whole "going to work" thing in general. I've always either WANTED to go to work for a variety of reasons involving the job or I flat out DIDN'T WANT to go to work for a variety of reasons involving the job. I honestly cannot ever remember not wanting to go to work for absolutely no reason what so ever. Okay, so maybe wanting to sit around in my underwear and drink beer and play computer games all day is a reason, but the preference for doing that instead of going to work has always been because there was something specific that I didn't like about my job. It's an odd feeling, this neither loving nor hating my job. The job is just sort of "there", a task on the same level as brushing my teeth, neither liked or disliked. I spent a good part of the week thinking there was something seriously wrong with me. Was I depressed? Was this some sort of mid-life crisis? This lack of passion, one way or the other, was completely out of character. It occurred to me yesterday that instead of something being wrong, maybe something was right. After all, I've spent the last 20 years putting my heart and soul into various jobs only to be rewarded with a pink slip down the road. And although it feels somewhat like being asleep for an extra 9 hours a day, perhaps it's time to just kick back and float along for a while.