I know this is kinda a 180 from yesterday, but there is a two-edged sword in a long weekend.
I grew up with 4H, band, quiz bowl, college classes, and anything else I could do. Whenever Dad needed help with a big project on the farm, he scheduled it for a Saturday and told me to be there. When I was upset, confused, or frustrated, I took walks in the pasture. Being busy was what I did. I read lots, but stayed away from TV (read: was crowded out). I had a pretty active life, you could say.
And then I got to college and went way overboard. RHA (x2/week), department clubs, quiz bowl (x2 for a while), studying, friends, games, everything I could possibly do. I loved it. I was exhausted most of the time, with 10 hrs/day away from my dorm, plus studying/homework, and whatever people I was hanging out with.
And then graduation came and everything just ended abruptly. I spent a couple months on the couch, making supper for the menfolk. Not even lunch or breakfast, just supper. Looking for a city job, and waiting for a call to farm work in the meantime. The city job came before the farmwork did, so I jumped at the busy-ness and the money.
I have one of the best jobs for a farmwife. I have flexibility in setting my hours, get like 10 paid holidays, a free day a month (by working 8.5 days the rest of the time), and two weeks of vacation. Plus they have awesome dental, health, life, and prescription insurance, are conveniently located to some of our fields!
Not that, like, any of that matters. Free days are usually taken to run errands (why isn’t anyone open after 5 during the week??) and even days that bring them that close to downtown are too busy for them to swing by and have a burger in town for lunch. Heaven forbid.
Usually, a two day weekend means I sleep in a couple hours, do some laundry, get caught up on the dishes, go ride horses, check in on what’s goin on in the shop, make supper, and we go out with friends. Maybe fit in a run or Pilates. Maybe beg myself into the feed truck.
But a three day weekend? The farm hasn’t waited on me, there’s nothing to do, and I get ANOTHER day of laundry and What Not to Wear (I’m on load two and episode three today).
It doesn’t help that I have (between common sense and an addiction to Pinterest) this obsession with a pretty, clean, happy home. I wasn’t raised in a house that demanded or welcomed housework and traditional homemaking, and so maybe what I have now is a little bit of rebellion to that, too. But really, the biggest impact of my upbringing was that I never learned what to do to get that, and it really raised my tolerance. Yeah, the linoleum is muddy and the tables are cluttered, but I know how much worse it *could* be, so this isn’t so bad.
And then it doesn’t help things when my husband says, you’ve been working so hard this week, take a break, do whatever you wanna do. If he thinks he’s using reverse psychology and one day I’m going to magically want to do housework, he will probably be waiting a while. All I *want* to do is sit and clean out my two folders of DVR and read. And sulk because I’m missing out on what I thought my life was going to be. Fair warning.
I feel so helpless. Just a pawn. I work, I feed my better half, and then what do I do? I don’t have a purpose in life. No one needs me. There isn’t much I can bring to the table.
Believe it or not, I wanted more out of life than myself. I want to be a part of something bigger. I don’t just want to have hobbies that make me happy. That’s all I have, though… So… Here I sit. Is it Monday yet?