I know I'm not the only one who lives for the weekend, but I caught myself thinking today about how boring my day-to-day routine actually is. The amount of time the average person spends at their place of work is astonishing. No wonder our colleagues end up knowing more about us and our lives than our family or friends do.
Don't get me wrong, I really quite like my job. It does have it's moments, as do most but actually the career I'm trying to forge for myself is pretty interesting. That doesn't stop me living for the weekend however, or having The Sunday Night/Monday Morning blues.
Why do we get up early and struggle to commute to work? (which, if you live in London, involves being uncomfortably close to a complete stranger where if you were any where else in the country, you'd be making a sexual harassment claim due to the body to body contact and invasion of personal space...as my friend often says, "i fear I had sex with hundreds of strangers on my way to work this morning") Why do we then work are arses off, struggle back home just in time to put a ready meal in the oven and watch a god awful soap about everyday life, just to do it all over again in a matter of hours?
Oh yes, to pay the bills...how could I forget. Basically once the weekend comes round I'm broke anyway and have to think of thrifty ways to enjoy my weekend so that i don't end up wasting it in front of the telly, yet again.
Moaning over.
