This morning my youngest is off to deliver a computer. He comes into my room to say bye and says something to the effect of “damn, are you writing again?”
My philosophy in life since I was very young has been “anything worth doing is worth over-doing.” It is not on purpose, you understand, its just the way it is.
I remember once sitting in a bar, in somewhere USA. I ordered a double. When the waitress brought it, I ordered another. My friend asked me why. So I don’t run out, of course. Sheesh, if I was going to sip on one, why bother.
For the first 20 years of my working career, I worked in public accounting. Deadlines and twelve hour days were normal and I loved it.
For the last 20 years I have worked in chemical dependency treatment, private and public sector. Even when I’m at home, I’m on call 24/7, 365 days a year.
When I’m in love, I’m obsessed.
My children can tell horror stories of my house cleaning escapades.
What I don’t understand is:
- pouring out a half glass/bottle of booze
- 40 hour weeks and no on call
- 63 year marriages
- my kids that can blog one day and not a peep after that.
What the hell is up with that anyway?