It's frustrating as all get out sometimes and I cried the other night when an eight top walked out with both credit card slips, leaving me with a big goose-egg of a gratuity on a $233 check, but the majority of the time I actually really and truly enjoy my job. I like (most of) the people, I like the fast pace, I like all the talking I get to do, and I like working at a job that I am quite good at.
But I'm also not going to pretend that my days off aren't my favorite. They are also a bit daunting. These are the days I should be accomplishing all the things. There are no water glasses to set out, no wine bottles to open, no specials to schpeal (shpeel? schpeel? Yeah, I have no clue how to spell it), no sidework to do so I should have a whole heap of extra time to accomplish so much more.
I also work from home, which I also love. It's flexible, interesting, fresh, and fun. I enjoy it immensely and I love being able to supplement my income a little bit with something I'm good at that I can do right from the kitchen while my kids whack one another with Minecraft swords and lightsabers until someone inevitably cries or bleeds or both. It makes it a little hard to keep track of the the time I'm putting in, but I've recently started using the stopwatch feature on my iPhone to help with that little issue, but I have to be sneaky and hide the phone under the pages of my planner or Evan's woodworking magazine or the kids' iPhone Radar will go off and then my precious little Smeagol will turn into the murderous Gollum right before my very eyes, precious.
The point of all the crap is that I look at the stack of library books on the table by the couch and I want to read them. I look at the piles of picture frames stacked up in the corner of my bedroom and I want to hang them. I flip through the photos on my hard drive and I want to lock myself in a fully stocked hotel room for a week and scrapbook the heck out of them while I eat chocolate, drink wine, watch stupid movies, and not gain a single pound.
Is that too much to ask?
Seriously, this headache is absolutely wicked. The Excedrin Migraine I took isn't even touching it. Hey, I need to remember to put the Wicked soundtrack in the new van because there is a multi-disc changer in there so I don't have to be stuck listening to Frozen every single time I get behind the wheel if I don't want to. Aw, crap. It's movie night at church tonight and I'm pretty sure the kids are watching Frozen, so I probably shouldn't be letting Micah watch it right this very second. Who cares, he's already half way done. I don't have a skull. Or bones. Bones. Meat. I need to figure out what to make for dinner. I just went grocery shopping like, TODAY. How can I not know what to make for supper?
Someday I'm going to get good at this, right?