Lately work has been busy. I work at a hotel in what I sometimes refer to as "the dungeon", which is really the laundry room. Yes, I'm a laundress. Exciting stuff! I had been a housekeeper previously, but I got offered to take over laundry duties when the previous laundress quit. I prefer being in there with my "water and fire dragons"--er, I mean the washers and dryers. I don't have to clean up people's nasty messes, only their dirty laundry.
With the end of the Memorial Day weekend, I suppose summer is underway, and summer is always busy, and I sure have been busy. Eight hours, five days a week of constantly sorting, washing, drying, and folding hundreds of pieces of towels, sheets, duvets, blankets, pillow cases, and so forth, almost non-stop with but twenty minutes to eat lunch. I could take thirty, but the laundry backs up so fast with me being the only one in there that I just rather get on with it. And by the end of the day, I am exhausted.
I mean, I come home, plop down in front of the computer for an hour snacking on chocolate or some other sweets, and then take a shower. Sometimes an hour or two nap weasels its way in there. I like to garden, but this year I haven't been able to so much as pull a few weeds here or there and water my potted plants from being exhausted from my pesky paying job. If only I didn't have to work...
I think that is the the dream of most writers, to give up the day job and write full time. I know I would enjoy it. I may get more writing done, or so I tell myself, if I didn't have this annoying job. All day while I fold, and fold, and fold, scenes of my novel play in my head, and I tell myself if only I could just stop and write it all down. I can't, and it sucks. If I did that, I would never get any laundry done, and I would have some angry housekeepers! I should figure out how to use this voice recorder I got for Christmas, but my lazy side hasn't been bothered to. I could say aloud what I'm thinking and later when I come home I could listen and write it all out, instead of the usual and forget everything by the time I get home. But, I'm lazy.
Some people actually have jobs they enjoy and would not give them up to write full time. Others can't because of benefits they would be losing. Or it's a matter of pay. My mundane job does not pay well, has no benefits, and isn't particularly life-fulfilling. It's a job, to put food on the table and pay a few bills. I suppose the only benefit it may have is that it gets me out of the house and makes me mingle with people, sort of. But if I could make a living writing, something I enjoy, I would drop this job in a heartbeat. Then I wouldn't have just another job, I would have a career. And an awesome one at that.