The work weeks feel long and tiring lately. I have to drive to work now, whereas my last job I could walk to. It’s only a ten minute drive, but I hate it. I hate driving in the city. Especially when everyone else is driving to or from work, too, and half of us are running late. There are actually many moments of generosity and kindness, people letting other people cut in. I am always grateful for that, and try to be generous myself. But there are also many moments of rudeness, of pressure, of having to decide whether to jump out in traffic or to make all the people waiting behind you mad.
Basically it’s all the problems we people have getting along with each other, without the ability to communicate beyond honks and waves (and other gestures) and with the addition of loud, metallic, and potentially lethal encasings. If you are an introvert, which I am, and if you do not like making people angry (I don’t) or being treated unfairly (that neither), then driving to work in Boston may not be for you.
So it’s been a long week of work which I love but which is tiring, each day bookmarked by the aforementioned barreling around having dozens of stressful mini-interactions. But then I come home and it is Friday evening. Friday evening looks like this:
Ah, quiet. Solitude. Well, not exactly, my housemate is a couple of rooms away. But he’s an introvert, too, so it works out well. We meet a few times an evening coming and going, and chat, and then go back to our respective corners.
One more picture before I sink even deeper into the relaxation of my Friday evening. A little bit of work that I don’t mind having followed me home: A cupcake tattoo, applied by six year old M. Happy weekending, everyone!