Wal-mart sells everything. Friggin’ everything. (Unless you’re in Kansas; then they sell everything but real beer.) But if I could run to the store and pick up a 6-pack of free time, I’d be friggin’ all over that shit. Seriously, when the hell do you get everything done when you’re working 8-hours a day?
I’ve never really done the 8-hour work day thing before. Last year when I was working retail my shifts rarely lasted longer than 4 hours, which gave me either my morning or afternoon for errands and housework. And before that I was in college, which, let’s face it, is flexible and could be ignored if I was out of pants. For the first time, my entire day is taken up by one activity; and not just one day, but all of them! Suddenly going to the gym has been tossed by the wayside, the cat box is getting ripe, and Kyle and I have to make a date night just to go grocery shopping.
To be fair, I did the 8-16 hour day thing last summer when I worked for the theatre in Oklahoma. So it’s not like working a full day is completely foreign to me. What makes this summer different is that this year I have friends. (Or at the very least a husband who has friends who can pretend that they like me; either way, I’m okay with that.) Whereas last year I would come home, and being all alone with no distractions, I had my evenings to do laundry and grocery shopping. And keeping my box studio apartment clean was a breeze, since part of the price of my incredibly-expensive-takes-up-over-half-my-paycheck-and-I’m-now-making-less-than-the-intern rent was cleaning lady services once a week. (I don’t need to explain how amazing cleaning ladies are, do I?)
But this year is different. Not only do I not have a nice lady who comes and wipes down my shower once a week, but I have a husband who thinks that ice cream sandwiches are an appetizer, and that cardigans go in the dryer. Worst of all, a husband and friends who believe that dinner is best spent at a bar with fries and evenings are meant for beer. Which, (as I’m sure you all deducted from my last post,) I’ve discovered is an AWESOME way to go.
So we come home a little after 6:00, both of us filthy. Kyle’s been welding all day, so he’s covered in grease and soot, and I’ve been hauling cable and lights all over, which leaves me covered in dirt and dust. (Don’t ask me to explain why, but lighting gear always feels as if it’s been spending time in someone’s shed, even when brand new.) So by the time we both shower and one of us puts on a face, (and blowdries her hair and changes 4 times,) it’s usually around 7:30. We’re at the bar/baseball stadium concession stand/friend’s house/couch by 8:00, we’ve eaten by 8:45, and by the time the game ends/we’re cut off it’s 10:00, which is far too late to be folding laundry. (And even if it weren’t too late, I’m drunk, and have you ever tried convincing a drunk woman to fold laundry? Yeah, that’s how the laundry ends up out on the porch.)
Beer and obliteration aside, how does one uphold an 8-hour day, a social life, a workout regime and a functioning household? Christ, I can’t even imagining throwing kids into that mix. I know it can’t be that hard, since millions of adults do it every day, but I’m just not sure how. I keep doing the math, and I keep coming up short. And I haven’t even gotten into how I keep up on my blog/s, stay well-read, cook and bake, and all the other little hobbies I enjoy. Shit, I haven’t even found time to pluck my eyebrows. Where do you find the time for everything?
I suppose the answers aren’t that hard. I should probably grow up, rearrange my priorities, and set aside some evenings for catching up on the humdrums of responsible adult life instead of drinking my liver into a hockey puck. And yet, here I am, watching the Red Wings game with a filthy kitchen, slightly bushy eyebrows, and beer #4. Oh, and I just remembered that our laundry has been sitting in the dryers for the last 2 hours.
I’ll be responsible in the fall.