A Friday Monday (Monday Friday?)

I've been a Monday-Friday worker for far too long, just as I've never outgrown my upbringing along a North-South highway .... Bay Area freeways confused me for years, messing with my sense of direction with all their bends and curls and cohabitation along the same stretch of road. Was I on 80 or 880? both at once? Who knew?

One of those qualities I love about my adopted home is its adherence to the poles. I'm back on a north-south line, as I should be.

And now, there's these Monday Fridays, by which I mean today, Friday, is my Monday. I couldn't figure out why it was all nuts-to-butts traffic this afternoon as I was trying to make my second run. Then, illumination! Friday. ah. I'm going to learn to hate my Mondays. But oh, sweet Tuesday and Wednesday. Lighter roads. *bliss sigh*

But the 'off' feeling of beginning a week as most others end theirs. This feeling of being 'other.' There are so many ways in which compartments are created ~hierarchies. Weekends. Carpet vs concrete. Suits vs day-glow vests. Cosmetics vs axle grease. Didja know the office staffers have 3 times the holidays of the infrastructure workers?

3 times. That's fine. I have no beef with it. We're trained to think carpet, suits and more holidays equate with power, with satisfaction, with choice. But I've taken paths that have given me more ability to decide my life than most people.

Hell, I feel like the most powerful person in the company. I can say, "I Choose This." Plus, I can turn off that truck at night, clock out and head home to a hot shower and my sweet babboo. If I'm passing couples on their way to a Friday night on the town as I think about what I want in my lunch bag tomorrow, it's a more than fair sacrifice. Maybe Friday is one habit I can outgrow.