Exhausting weekend

My co-workers used to laugh whenever I would come in to work at the start of my work week - Monday or whatever day that happened to be - completely exhausted and drained and looking forward to a nice, relaxing week of work. But it's true. Perhaps I should say my "job," since a poet friend once reminded me that my "work" is something completely different from the thing I do for money. Work is almost an abstraction, a series of algorithms with consequences affecting processes and people external to me and my life - and ultimately me, in the form of a paycheck and continued employment. It's generally predictable, even in something as frequently chaotic as customer service.

But real life, life outside of the confines of work, is totally different. The randomness, the demands, the expectations, and even the grind of routine things-that-must-be-done all require so much energy that I look forward to being inside a cubicle somewhere and paid for it.

Time for bed.