It’s over ten years now since I worked for an employer.
Since then I ran my own little business which was too fucking successful and it meant I was working all the daylight hours, and some of the darker ones too. I gave up the business as it was too like hard work.
Since then I have been living the life I deserve – no fucking work but still collecting the old pension. Nice.
There is still one little hangover from the employment days though. I still get that sinking feeling on a Sunday evening.
Thinking back, I suppose Mondays have been a drag since I started school. So from the age of five, or whatever age it was, I have been dreading Sunday evenings because the next thing to come down the track is Monday Morning.
In school, Sunday evening meant a frantic dash to two days worth of homework and dreaming up excuses why it wasn’t finished. Then for many years I had to submit timesheets and travel claims which meant a Sunday evening frantically trying to invent mileages and filing in forms.
Even now, I still get that sinking feeling on a Sunday evening where I do a soul search to try to remember forgotten homework or wondering whether I will get away with another week’s grossly exaggerated mileage.
Old habits die hard.
Of course these days I get the lovely glow when I remember that Monday morning now means as long a lie in as I want. I just wish I could get the glow without the panic.
I shall console myself later by listening to the traffic reports.
Nowadays I just love hearing about traffic chaos as I sit in my cosy chair.