I must say, the name of the day is much more exciting than the day itself. If only “Boxing Day” meant a day filled with feats of athleticism and pugilism instead of an extra day off for a few select other countries. UK gets all the Holidays. SIGH Think about it. How much more entertained would you be if all the mall Santas had to do some UFC style cage matches to obtain their posts for next year? Or what if all of those horrific holiday dinners filled with angst, anger and boiling resentment were settled via fisticuffs on a new reality TV show, and the winner could call the shots for next holiday season? (For example: Overbearing Mother constantly nit picks at son-in-law. Son-in-Law has chance to dis-invite her to Christmas next year. All he has to do is go a few rounds with the champ.) I am not saying it should be a Blood Sport on Mean ol’ Memaw (Granny). Just a quick take down to the mat, maybe a small sleeper hold coupled with a flying elbow for Uncle Dave the semi-misogynistic, one-upping asshole. From my point of view this is all win-win. As Americans we have become rather nonathletic, many of us are a bit too thick in the middles, some are downright obese. If more of us had something worthwhile to train for, there would be more fit & healthy Americans. With more fit & healthy Americans, our healthcare would cost less. If our health care cost less, people could save more. By saving more there would be a stronger economy and less homeless. This is really a public service of sorts. You’re welcome, America. One small idea becomes the saving grace of a country.
Something to think about anyway.
Knowing that today would be a slow day at best at work, and I still had to get up and go did not make much improvement to my attitude this morning. I definitely had my “pout on” when it was so cold that the dogs did not budge from their couch to walk me to the door. It does not drop below 35°F too often in Phoenix, but when it does, I do NOT want to leave my warm bed, much less my warm house. Another burr in my saddle was watching the hubs sleep cuddled up all warm and cozy in our bed, blissfully unaware of my seething resentment of the cold tile floor and of a missed four day weekend while I got dressed in the cold, dark bedroom.
I think on holiday weeks for certain subsets of companies that KNOW the days will be slow, with little to no activity, employees should be able to either remote in, or nap George Costanza style under their desks.
So, of course he and his BFF will be going on a Jeep road trip for the day. Probably up to see the snow, that we rarely get down here in Phoenix. Which I am trying to not resent (Too much. Yet failing miserably). I know, I know- not his fault that I have to work. While he has off to nimbly-bimbly wander around instead of grocery shop, clean house or yard…etc, etc. (Yes, that was a ZING. Jimmy. If you have invited friends over, jeep trip or not- the house had better be pristine before they get there. Just saying.)
OK, rant over. I truly am happy and grateful to have a job, but sometimes you need to wallow a bit about time missed with the family. Especially since Father Time seems to be on methamphetamines these days, so the days, weeks and years just whiz by faster and faster with no slowing in sight.