Man, we just have to stop hosting parties. When we lived in the apartment, we rarely had people over. Check that, we practically never had people at our place. And we certainly never hosted parties. There was simply no room.
Now that we have a place of our own, with a front yard, back yard, larger living room, larger kitchen, and, most importantly (especially upon considering some of the company), multiple bathrooms, we are able to host many people at one time. And we've been taking full advantage of this opportunity. We've actually had people over twice just in the last month.
And I think we both need a breather.
Cooking, cleaning, prettifying, constructing bean bag toss boxes... yes, you heard that right, I built two bean bag toss boxes. It just takes it all out of you. Katie even more so than me. She has this habit of wanting to clean up as we go instead of letting dishes or garbage pile up as the party progresses. So she'll be in the kitchen cleaning while talking to the girls. I feel bad and think she should just kick back and relax, but she argues that she is relaxed and would rather do it this way.
Sick. That's all I can say.
But you've gotta respect that work ethic. She's the same way at her real job. If she's not actively inputting prescriptions in the computer or filling bottles with someone's daily pill fix, she feels like she isn't doing enough. And she'll find more to do.
Me? I've been looking forward to retirement since the day I graduated from college. Nay, I can date it back to high school graduation. I hate working. It's not as though I'm not a motivated person. I enjoy expending my energy to worthwhile causes. I loved being in school. I was great at research and writing and taking tests. I enjoyed everything about it.
But, there's just something about waking up and getting dressed nicely (if you consider khakis and a polo "nice") and showing up to do effectively the same thing day after day that just does me in mentally and emotionally. I don't know where this desire to not work comes from. My dad likes his job so far as I know. My brother would wither and die without work (I'm convinced that would really happen but doubt that I could ever convince him to play the role of guinea pig should I ever carry out the experiment). Obviously my wife loves it or she wouldn't be beating herself up taking classes to move up in the ranks to become a full-fledged drug pusher... er... pharmacist.
I think it must have something to do with feedback received on a job well done. In school, you receive grades on everything you do. If you say something intelligent during class, you receive positive feedback. At the end of it all — be it four, five, even six years or more — you receive a diploma. Talk about positive reinforcement.
Now that I'm part of the working world, it seems that such feedback comes less often. Unless you're talking negative feedback. Nobody is ever afraid to tell you that you are doing a bad job. Positive feedback, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have a place in the real world. There are some managers that believe in it highly. But they are clearly in the minority. Once in a while, one of my bosses will pass on a compliment to me that she heard from someone else. But these compliments catch me so off guard or they're timed so awkwardly, that I don't know how to respond or it doesn't sink in until much later. By the time I have mentally processed the compliment, responding to it is pretty much moot.
Wow. How did you like that? In one post, I covered party hosting, work ethics, and personnel management. Talk about one huge tangent after another. It's gotta be late. There's just no other way to explain this massive derailment of my train of thought.
To anyone who has scratched their head to the point of blood loss, I apologize. This was entirely unintentional.