Sunday noon

It's a gorgeous day and all I can think is how much I don't want to go to work tomorrow.  

Don't misunderstand - I like my job quite a lot.  I'm sculpting it to work very well for me, at last for the time being.  It's interesting and engaging and rewarding and I'm appreciated.  It's behind the scenes and strategic.  It's all the things I could want.

But it's still a job.  That I have to go to.

And don't misunderstand - I don't want to work from home.  Not right now.  Not in this chaotic disrupted space with storm damage unrepaired.  

But I want more.  Like so many people who have quit and not returned to jobs for wanting more.  More life, more possibility, beyond sucking it up to "the man."  

I should be able to take off days for nice weather.  I should have more holidays.  I should have abundant annual leave.  Instead, I earn no leave for the probation period (six months) and then it's a paltry ten days off per year.  Only two weeks off per year?  Why?

I do have sick time, which I never use at any job.  Maybe I should use it at this job?  For mental health days?  When the weather is so nice that my wellbeing requires I be out in it? 

I've just been out and about, swapping native plant for seeds with a pal, walking the dog.  Puttering around in back, now I need to do work in front.  The hammock is out and I plan some time in it today.  

I just want - like so many of us who have to work full-time in a job because we have no other way to survive - more life, less job.  I love to work and I love the identity my career provides me, but I also want spontaneous time off.  

And now my lunch is done cooking so I eat and go back outside.  Maybe I'll weedwhack today, so desperately necessary.