Not just tired. Old-lady-tired.
I was up pretty late last night making wonderful and responsible decisions. And when my head hit the pillow at about 4 in the morning, I had to come to terms with the fact that I would not be early to rise and indubitably half my Sunday would be over before I even woke to greet it.
The entire concept of a mere 2-day weekend is absurd. I need more time. I spend Saturday catching up on all the things I have to do but don’t have time to tend to during the week because I’m, you know, working. And then when Saturday is over, I have to face the harsh reality that the very next day means the end of my weekend and will be entirely overshadowed by the fact that I have to work again on Monday. And then 5 days to trudge through before my next pathetic 2-day weekend.
I demand an Adult Break.
It’s preposterous that I’m allowed 2 weeks of debauchery, exploration, and adventure in the spring and 3 months in the summer every single year of my life until I graduate from college and then it disappears when I’m ejected. Absolutely disappears. And short of my striking it rich, marrying into money, or finding a sack of cowboy gold on the city streets, I have no way of making my own 3-month adult adventure because while I’m off trotting around in Europe or Jamaica or even just freaking Kansas City, I’ll have to find a way to pay my rent, phone, gas, electric, water, garbage, credit cards, and student loans.
Why are we all just okay with this?
Don’t get me wrong: I’m all for hard work and all that jazz and I totally get that bills need to be paid, even though my inner hippie screams in frustration that I have to pay for things that should, in my opinion, be free to all. That’s fine – I’ll suck it up. But I would really like a small section of my time each year to be liberated from worry, work, and obligation. It’s called living, and I would like some please.
So what shall we do? Organize a march on the capitol steps? Or start a movement and design marketing tactics?
I vote movement. ♣