I worked four hours on Monday, three hours today and I agreed to another three hour shift at the card shop tomorrow. That's a 10-hour workweek. Not exactly grueling, especially when you look back on the 50-hour weeks I once clocked.
But here's the thing: I don't want to do it.
I've become fundamentally lazy. I want to sleep in. I look forward to days when I have nothing I have to do.
But too many days like that aren't good for me. They lead to too much solitude, where I don't interact with other humans and tend to overthink everything.
And I need the money. We don't yet have a dollar amount for the extensive repairs we have to make on this building. I want to prepare for the worst. Plus, my oldest friend wants to come in for the Fest for Beatle Fans in Chicago this August. I just put the hotel on my credit card, and she swears she's going to pay for part of it, but let's face it: she's not going to. She can't. She still owes me $100 from our trip to Las Vegas in 2014.
So I'm doing that extra shift tomorrow, even though I don't feel like it. I need to get over myself. There are worse ways to spend three hours than surrounded by Mother's Day cards, pretty wrapping paper and scented candles.
Photo by Siora Photography on Unsplash
