I love my weekends. I mean, I REALLY love my weekends. I get to be me.
Work is hard. It is a necessity for certain reasons depending on the individual and the individual's needs. A paycheck is fantastic, but it doesn't take care of everything. I get tired, and I lose my way and who I am. By the time I get to feeling myself again, on the weekends when I get to be me, it's time to go back to work. But I like my job. But that's not who I am. My job doesn't define me. Or does it?
It's spring and spring is hard to get up here in the UP. You certainly can't buy it. Spring, I mean. No matter the amount written on that paycheck you got from working so hard, you can't make spring happen. So spring is hard.
Decisions regarding life and the future are hard. Life is hard.
I've spent an allotted amount of time outside being me, until the bugs find me. Today I itch at all the spots they invaded, bit me, then spit me out. Bugs are hard.
Kind of like work. It's a rollercoaster of sorts. Except I like rollercoasters. They take me out of my body, my head.
Today I get to be me.
Tuesday I go to work. Did I tell you I got a new job this week? I did. I'm proud of myself, but still at my age I'm nervous.
Okay, back to being me.
I love my weekends.
