Back to reality

Lets face it, work is reality.  I’m going to spend 40 hours per week at a job of some kind for most of my adult life.  Depressing, huh?  There must be a job out there somewhere that I could actually enjoy doing.  Something I might actually want to get out of bed for every morning.  Work that I wouldn’t mind doing at weekends as well. 

Not this one though.  It’s okay, as it goes.  I cannot complain about the flexibility they allow me, with time off and the ability to working from home whenever I need it.  I phoned the boss-man earlier to say ‘I turned up’ and ask what I should start working on, and he told me not to worry about any of the bigger tasks I was anticipating, he’ll get those covered for at least a few days so I can take it easy.  You’ve gotta love that. 

But still, I’d rather be at home all the time, without the pressure of earning a living.  Maybe one day that lottery dream will come true.  Okay, I know that statistically the odds are not in my favour on that issue, I studied maths, but I can keep hoping. 

The other dream is an inheritance from a really elderly long-lost relative, but obviously only if they lived a happy fulfilled life and died quickly and painlessly with no regrets except that didn’t get to know me, the only heir they can find.  Obviously.  If I let the doubts creep in I am well aware that I am one of four children and that both of my parents and two of my grandparents are still alive, so there’s no reason for me to acquire an inheritance from anywhere really. 

I wouldn’t turn it down if it did happen, but in general, I’m happier in the knowledge that there is no inheritance, for either A or for me.  I’ve known people who are all too aware that on the death of their parents they stand to gain a lot of money, and they live their lives in anticipation of that.  How comfortable can you be with yourself if you live your life based on your plans for when your own parents die?!  These people don’t ever quite commit to the job, the house, the reality of their day-to-day lives because they know they will eventually be able to change it all.  It would serve them right if their parents leave their money to an animal sanctuary.  Or to me! 

That little rant sounds a lot like sour grapes, but I don’t intend it that way.  I’m proud of the fact that we’ve made our own lives without much financial support (plenty of emotional support, but not financial).  We paid for our own wedding, bought our own house and pay our own bills, and have done all along. 

So, anyway, yesterday went pretty much as planned.  Except Mum insisted I accompany her right into the dentist’s room.  I’m not so comfortable with dentists, and despite the many, many hospital and doctor appointments I’ve been to with her over the years, this was one too many.  The crack-crunch noises as her teeth were extracted was nauseating to say the least, and I was really glad I had taken my trusty knitting to distract me. 

The afternoon was filled up with more knitting, then a quick spaghetti-and-pasta bolognaise for dinner (not enough pasta or spaghetti, but just enough combined).  We did manage to get out for a short walk between rain showers. 

Today, we are both working until 5pm, then it’ll be dinner, short walk, an hour in front of the box and bed.  Back to the old routine already, which is distressing but also strangely comforting.

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