Yesterday’s Post a Day suggestion asked
“What’s going on in your life right now that’s driving you nuts?”
This made me chuckle as my past few posts have been cleverly (or not so cleverly) and creatively (or not) disguised vents, rants and diatribes about a life gone chaotic.
So today I will share a simple vent.
Saturday morning should be the start of a lazy day with cartoons and pancakes and snuggly blankets.
Saturday morning should be a time for family and warm drinks while still wearing pajamas.
Saturdays should be days of family times including outside events, the occasional kids acting class, and some kind of social gathering in the evening, or simply movie night.
But not in this household. Not with my husband’s single job that is really three.
Saturday morning means the alarm going off at 6am as usual. It means me dragging my carcass out of bed in order to drive him to work by 7:30 am where he will remain until at least 9:30pm. (The issue of us only having one car adds a separate level of venting).
At least I stayed in my pajamas.
Now, I’m not really concerned if our employers read this, because they know. Last semester he tracked his hours, in the hopes that a valid argument could be made for 1) an increase in salary and 2) a justification for him to take the summer off to work at a summer theater while still getting his full year salary.
I think it pretty much worked, since he averaged 55 hours a week last semester, and that was the easy semester. I think that he even worked about 30 hours on the week he broke his ribs.
I know, we do theater. We live creative lifestyles. I am crazy busy myself, because of choosing projects and to teach classes, but here’s the thing; there is a difference between choosing projects and assuming that one person will be available for all the events that other people choose to do. Those events range from student movie nights, to special performances for students, to 24 hour plays, to regular productions, to musical performances and so on. Meanwhile, he starts work anywhere between 8 and 9 am daily (although sometimes he starts earlier and does work at home, stays until at least 5, and works at home many evenings.
At most he gets one day off a week, and sometimes not even that.
So, Saturday morning in this house means nothing really.
At least I chose to say “NO!” this time so I can spend the day with our daughter.
Vent accomplished. I leave you now with this calming thought about Saturday Mornings: