Posted on | March 10, 2013 | 5 Comments
Know what I hate about “kid-free” weekends? The fact that I inevitably end up right where I am 75% of my week anyway… at the office. If I’m being honest, I kind of appreciate having J around to keep me from being here all the time because I know if I were just a single woman and not a single mother, I’d feel obligated to get more done, to clock more time… to handle more crap. At least with J, I’m “forced” to put work on the back burner every so often.
Today I got my fat butt out of bed and headed to the office because, well, I had to. J isn’t here and I don’t really have any excuse not to be using my time wisely and all that crap they instill in your brain when they release you from law school. (It comes in the bag alongside your debt, you may have missed it if you didn’t dig deep enough.) I got all the way to the office only to realize that it’s Sunday and the building is locked on Sundays. Now NORMALLY, that’s not a problem because normal people don’t inexplicably lose their keys while working out at the gym.
But I’m not normal people.
So my scan card which gets me into the building is somewhere in the bottom of someone else’s gym bag or probably in the trash by now, and I am left hovering outside the door to my building waiting for someone else to decide to work on a Sunday morning and let me in. Not the most productive start to my day. Luckily, my co-worker was on his way in anyway, so I only had to wait about 45 minutes in the parking lot, oozing out all my motivation in the meantime.
Working on the weekends sucks.
It just flat out sucks. Know why? Because weekends are for cheesy romantic movies or baking cookies or even for blowing bubbles on the front porch. Weekends are not for reading medical records and typing briefs and dictating memos to files for people who are probably sitting on their own sofas and delighting in the third showing of Coyote Ugly on ABC Family in two days.
I spent over three hours at the office and I think all I got accomplished was sorting through last week’s mail, finishing an appeal to the Court of Appeals, watering some crops on Farmville, and feeling quite proud of my presence in an otherwise empty office where no one will know I was here today anyway.
Kid-free weekends are for the birds. I’ll take Disney Jr. and bike riding lessons over Court of Appeals briefs every damn time.