The Day Doesn’t Start Until I Get Home From Work

The Day Doesn't Start Until I Get Home From Work

I was having a conversation the other day with a friend about work. What we deduced was that no one really likes to work. That being said, staying home all day and hanging out may be fun, but like anything, it eventually gets old.

Ask anyone that has been on funemployment – it’s sure great to be able to wake up at noon and watch pirated Rocko’s Modern Life episodes, but having money and being able to do stuff while not being considered a leech to society is also pretty good. Not working is a novelty and that wears off after having to turn down going out for the tenth time due to lack of funds.

In college, any time not in class was spent day drinking, betting on FIFA ’11 games with Hurricanes as currency or chasing women. Sure, there were still those looming group projects where only two of the four people could spell, busywork homework assignments that graduate students graded or the vocabulary quiz for the Communications general elective I took, but largely, college was a breeze. Now I work to pay off college.

I don’t feel like my day begins until I head home from the office at 4 p.m. And do you know the best of being home? Taking off my business casual monkey suit.

There is no better feeling in the world than walking through the door and immediately taking off your pants. Feels good, man. I love to be one foot in the door, kicking off my pants, Kobe-ing them into a billowing-over hamper if I happened to have spilled something on them. Because it’s not like they get dirty otherwise when I sit in a cubicle all day. No one washes pants unless they are dirty.

Truth be told, I’m burned out after spending two days on all-day conference calls with our good friends at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and I want nothing more than to go home, crack open a cold one and drink until I fall asleep. I may or may not do this one or more nights a week on a regular basis. It’s only a problem if you go to a meeting for it, right?

As I throw my khakis onto the top of the couch, pet my dogs and look at my overgrown pile of laundry, dishes, and everything out of place, all I can think about is taking a nap. Do you ever have so much to do that you decide to take a nap?

After lying on the couch to collect my thoughts, I realize it’s time to start the day.

The eight or so hours of work I put in are a mere memory at this point, where I question if they even really happened. If I take a nap, I’ll never get to bed; it’s time to enjoy these free hours in between work. The weekend is really never enough time to do anything or get anything done. Sure, two days off is great, but it’s hard to enjoy Friday due to being burned out from the week, Saturday is full of sports, hiking, boozing, trips to Home Depot and fun, and Sunday is full of sadness, hangovers and Scaries.

At home, I know I have a guaranteed six hours of peace and quiet. I only interact with people that I want to interact with, if I even want to at all. I will never sync up my phone and work email for this reason: it’s nice to unplug and not deal with garbage from work, have a phone that I am obligated to answer, and go to meetings where I doodle in a notepad while pretending to write notes.

Every day at work is a blur. Can you remember anything from fifth grade, high school, or, hell, even college? I know I can’t. Work is what we do in between fun stuff. It’s how society is, and it’s how we play the game. I can’t remember what I did in Mr. Kling’s class, but I sure can tell you what it was like to score a hat trick in my first varsity game. Life is about the important things, but without the mundane, we wouldn’t appreciate the great times not at work. The king is gone, but he’s not forgotten.

Image via Shutterstock

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I specialize in damage control, being the drunkest at any and all functions and social assassination. Always appreciate a strong gif game. Follow me on Twitter. Sometimes I put up cool stuff about golfing at the local dirt tracks.

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