I worked many, many extra hours last weekend. Because I am on a four-day schedule for the summer, my weekend is three days long. In that three day period, I put in close to thirty hours. In under-reported it as twenty-two because I always feel that when I work from home, only actual work should count. When I am physically at work, I might knit a couple rows or write a blog post or look at baby pictures on Facebook and call that work time. I am much stricter on myself at home.
And so. I am salaried and someone in my chain of command (bless his big old heart) believes that working salaried people to death is not a great idea. I took three hours off on Wednesday and then took all of today (Friday). And so, here I am on a Friday morning, it’s not yet seven o’clock, and I have the whole day ahead of me. What might be the best part of all is that Monday is part of my “weekend,” at least for two more weeks. It’s the little gifts like a four-day weekend in the middle of the summer that almost make the rest of it worth it.
There’s a certain joy to an unplanned day off. I am on my own and can really do whatever I want, when I want to. I may choose to ride my bike to the gas company later. I could choose to Big Scrub the kitchen floor instead of just mopping it. I might finish my book and start another, go grocery shopping, finally drive to Berlin to check out that yarn shop. All or none or any combination, and it’s all my choice. I’ve been given the gift of a day, free from bosses and customers, projects and documentation, feet in mouth and random drama created by people who can’t function without drama. It’s just me and maybe the cat, if she deigns to bless me with her royal presence. And it is terrific.
A day free of structure and tasks and goals, projects and meetings and other people’s drama? That is a good day. I’ve been given a gift and I plan to make the most of it. Heck, I might even VPN in to work and do some stuff there. It’s totally different doing it when I don’t have to do it, you know?