They say all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Working long hours doesn’t only make Dirk a dull boy, it is sucking the life out of me. It’s a matter of time before the lovely Snapdragon becomes a gorgeous widow. She has already decided on her outfit for my funeral. I don’t know what a fascinator is, but she plans to wear one.
“I think it’s time for a career change,” I told Snapdragon the other evening. “Maybe I should become a famous novelist. Or a sculptor … just imagine the sweat dripping from my naked upper body, my muscles gleaming in the neon light while I chisel … What do you think?”
She was very sure of her answer. “A sculptor!”
“Because of my creative talents? And the muscles?”
“Nope,” she said. “Because I have read your stories. Definitely a sculptor.”
“I have to get more excitement in my life,” I said.
“Count your blessings,” she said. “At least you have me.”
She might have a point.
Apart from all the driving and the spam e-mails in my inbox, my job isn’t too bad.
My daughter is a smart alec, but she makes me laugh from time to time. I don’t think Snapdragon likes me much, but she loves me, which is even better. And my dogs are always happy to see me.
But a talk I had with Norman this week really changed my mind.
Norman is a friendly pump attendant at the garage around the corner.
At six in the morning, he always makes small talk about the weather or politics and sends me on my way with a smile.
Wednesday evening, when I decided to get diesel to save a few minutes in the morning, a smiling Norman was waiting for me.
“You work terribly long hours,” I told him.
“It’s a job, which makes it better than the alternative,” Norman said. “I knock off just after nine…”
I can’t wait for next weekend to see if Norman works on weekends, too.
We are going to the garage for diesel on Saturday morning, after all, because the lovely Snapdragon has decided we should go away for the weekend. Just the two of us, to see if she can add some excitement to her dull husband’s boring days.
Life is good…