It’s not the money. It’s not having what some might consider power. It’s not the fancy title or the office with windows or any of the perks that come with a job.
I miss being able to call in sick. Or rather, to call in “well”. You know, those days when you’re just feeling a little bit crappy and you just don’t want to bother with anything. You’re not really sick enough to go to the doctor or anything. You just don’t want to be responsible for anything. So you call in and everybody leaves you alone for awhile. I miss that.
Now I still have a dog that doesn’t understand that I really don’t feel like going for a walk or tossing the Frisbee or care that his water dish might be empty at the exact minute he thinks he needs a drink. And although I adore my husband and cooking for him, sometimes I just don’t want to make a mess of the kitchen or even have to think about what to defrost and cook that night. Sometimes I don’t want to have to put a bra on or stop reading the book on my night table. And I’m perfectly happy to allow the dust bunnies to procreate on any given day. Or leave the phone on “silent” and unplug the computer.
This “job” I have now doesn’t allow for calling in “well”. If my former assistant Janet should read this, I’m certain she’d remind me how very lucky I am to not have to be working and say some other choice words to me, so now I am even ashamed that I’ve written this. That shame will pass before I’m done typing this, but probably not my regret that I can’t call in “well” some day.