It was a good weekend, a long weekend, but a too short weekend. We went to Chicago and had a great time. Friday we went to Ikea and walked around for a few hours, decided on a couch we want to buy when we get enough money. (We have a few responsible things to pay for first before we can buy a new couch.) We had dinner at Ikea, and headed back to the hotel. We got a really good deal on where we stayed – the Sheraton Suites, for about $50 a night… it was really nice! Thank you, Hotwire!
Then Saturday we went into the city and went to the Museum of Science and Industry. We had a great time, walked around for about six hours and saw everything, except the new Body Worlds exhibit because they were actually all sold out of tickets for that by the time we got there. We did get to take a tour of the German U-boat they have on display there, though. It was REALLY cool. Erin wasn’t feeling well, so we headed back to the hotel and just hung out and watched TV and ate Chicago-style pizza for the rest of the evening.
Sunday we went to see the White Sox play the Twins. We had GREAT seats – two rows back from the visitor’s dugout, right along the first base line. We had a wonderful time, even though the Sox lost. We had a good rally in the ninth, but Pierzynski grounded out and the game was over. *sigh*… oh well… we still had a fabulous time.
And now here I am, back in reality, or in the real world of grownups. I’m disillusioned this morning. I’ve realized that I’m living for the weekends… getting through the work week unscathed is my goal, and then I become my real self on Saturday and Sunday. I HATE it. I want to be independently wealthy, so I can have a weekend whenever I want… but to be independently wealthy, you have to do what I’m doing now, which is work your ass off during the week to make as much money as you possibly can. I know most people have to do what I do every day… is everyone as disillusioned as I am? Maybe it’s just Monday morning blues. I’m just sick of answering to someone else every day of the week, then only having 32 hours to do whatever I want to do with my time. (I would say 48, but I have to sleep sometime, right?)
I feel trapped. Is this what I have to look forward to for the next 25 years of my life? Working 40+ hours a week, dreaming of the weekends and the occasional vacation, hating what I do for 80% of my time? Good lord. It’s enough to make you want to rob a bank… if only I could get away with it… but I know I’d never be able to, LOL…
Anyway, I’m just bitchin’. Everybody has to sometimes, I guess.