I do not love DRIVING to my job. Not in fresh snow/slush/ice. Not with Colorado drivers. “But Marc,” you say, “CO drivers should be used to the snow, especially in Denver.” And I guess that would be true, if most of them weren’t California transplants that still believe the road was built for them, and that in their high-powered SUV they are invincible.
But my job, hmmm. It’s not that I hate my job… I love what I do, it’s my first real passion [at least the kind I could get paid for]. But I’m not sure about WHERE I work. Nothing bad about the hospital, and it being a non-profit hasn’t hurt my salary any. It’s just … if I’m going to be coding and programming, I’d much rather do it for myself. Of course, there is definitely no pay in that, so here I sit.
I truly shouldn’t complain – I get to update my blog, not to mention read others. I even have time during lunch to pound out a few paragraphs of the novel. So it’s not a bad place to work.
I’m 60. In a nutshell – there it is. I’ve been working some 44+ years and I’m tired. My life still revolves to some extent around the not-so-mighty dollar, and thus around salary, and thus around job. My schedule is controlled by someone else. When I rise, where I spend my time, how I treat fellow employees [eh – I really don’t like working WITH people much more than working FOR people]
Not to mention it’s just that time of year. From the day before my birthday late October until the 6th or 7th of January I am a mental disaster. Depression rules and I find it almost impossible to concentrate.
Even here, so I’m going to post this and either update it later or make a ‘part 2’ post.