Working for the Weekend

During the 2006-2007 school year I worked full time while earning my Masters degree. Yes, I earned the degree in a year. Yes, it nearly destroyed my personal life and taught me an important lesson about work-life balance. This year, my friend Nicole is undergoing to same process. She’s working late nights during the week. I was working weekends. I’m glad to be done with that life.

  • Nicole: What makes us choose to spend an absolutely ridiculous amount of time on work and school, allowing limited relaxation and social time?
  • Me: Thoughts of future relaxation, stability, not having to work in a factory, etc
  • Nicole: I mean, you have more time for relaxation, since you are a vampire baker who never sleeps. But really, neither of us would ever be working in a factory after WWII
  • Me: My grandma worked in a factory after WW II, my mom worked in a cannery when she was young.
  • Nicole: My grandma worked in a factory and at a soda shop. But by the mid to late 70s, she was working at Westinghouse or some schizz.
  • Me: I love George and all, but I won’t ever be dependent on him for my existence
  • Nicole: I can see you as one of those Super House Wives. Heading up the Bunko league, organizing activities for the neighborhood children…
  • Nicole: Maybe you’d join the Junior League
  • Nicole: And have four perfect children
  • Me: That’s too much birth. I’m becoming more and more a fan of adoption all of the time.
  • Me: Do I want a baby taking over my body? Not right now.
  • Nicole: Don’t you want to pass along your tall genes?
  • Me: We were talking about that the other day. The tall genes are perhaps the only guaranteed thing.
  • Nicole: A smart, tall, attractive, fun super-human-race
  • Me: I’m blushing
  • Nicole: That works too hard.

Obviously, I’m only posting this because Nicole proclaims that I could be the Eve of a smart, tall, attractive and fun version of humanity. That and she referred to me as “a vampire baker who never sleeps.” She’s just trying to make me forget that she owes me an entire pitcher of Sangria.