Damn.  I leave a week today.

And tomorrow is one month since my last day of work.  A month!  Wow.  Absolutely nuts.  Never could have imagined it. 

Goes without saying that it's been totally lovely just hanging at the house, doing little errands and going for walks and having minimal responsibilities and no particular schedule.  All of it, effin' wonderful.  I unfortunately could totally get used to this in a big, fat way. 

As I've droned on about, I am struck over and over at the sad waste of time and our lives that 'work' is.  Again, not for medical folks, scientists, teachers, artists ... but for common insurance schmucks?  Ya.  Waste.  Everyone it seems to me should have a month off or two, minimum, a year, without any obligations.  Zero.  To recharge, to appreciate, to laze about, to refocus, to smell the fucking goddamn roses.  Because it really is true, goddamit, that we could be 'taken' at any point.  Squashed like a bug.  We live in a totally random universe.  We and are insignficant specks of matter.  The world does not give a rat's ass if you 'haven't done what you wanted to do' before your time's frigging up.  Just like that.

I guess I'm just a bit astonished and horrified that this is the way the world works.  That you give up the precious and the fleeting - day in, day out and day after day of your time - which inevitably becomes your priority because in many ways it has to be due to how we've set things up - and are left to try to build and attend to life only in your 'spare time'. 

Wow.  How did we manage to get it exactly fucking backwards ?

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Apologies if I come off sounding smug/naive/preachy.  It's just that being off work and outside of work - and not spending the time looking for work, just yet - inevitably gives you a different perspective, and I guess I feel sad and a bit angry when I reflect that we've developed a system that values and elevates the wrong frigging things.