Work Culture: Up or Down?
Ask a farmer about work hours. During my career-building years, I worked 12-14 hour days. I have never regretted that, and I learned a lot in doing so. Oftentimes in my NYC days, I needed to work 24-hour days and all weekend too, and you would never hear any bitchin from me about that. Glad to have the work. Many times caught with my unconscious face planted on desk.
In my current self-employed era, I work just as hard and long as I choose to. Rarely less than 11 hours/day, and in spare time on weekends. Work is good. Mrs. Barrister values my effort enormously, which encourages me and cheers me on. She rewards me by being sweet to me and by making me a nice life. I am productive, useful, and I make money.
What else would I do, anyway? I like to read books at night, not during daytime. I surf the web when I need a short break from concentration and writing. I hate the boob tube.
It has been a great pleasure for me to provide Mrs. B with the ladylike, genteel life she aspired to. Raising kids, playing sports, seeing friends, volunteering, gardening, cooking, reading littacher and studying art history, messing with the horses. Just like her Mom. Fine with me because it all enriches my gracious Connecticut life.
Weekends I mainly structure around manual labor around the Barrister Estate, church, and socializing in evenings. We are constantly making new friends, sometimes more than we can handle. It all does me good. Life is short.
I intend to work until I drop, or until nobody needs or wants me. I guess that's my Calvinist culture and upbringing which requires being useful and productive. It works for me. Vacations and trips, however interesting, make me restless. Except for Thailand, India, and the Midi. Camera? Never, ever. After the kids got bigger, I threw it away. For me, it interferes.
