At the end of a holiday – most Sundays too – I am reminded at heart I am a very lazy man. What I mean by this is I am happy doing odds and end chores around the house, be on the computer, or run errands – anything but work. I am a hard working fellow, who takes his job seriously. Nevertheless, I am perfectly content to do nothing. I was born in the wrong century I suppose; I have all the qualities of an 18th century ‘man of leisure’ but the money to live like one.


I envy my friends, the majority of whom don’t work. I often am the one employed man in the group. They are retired or have steady incomes (lucky sods). Some of them have spouses who are the breadwinners.

Life is unfair. I used to dream of working 10-20 years as a doctor then quit and do something else. Perhaps I would retire. Or I would have a partner who would provide the income while I did stayed home. In my actual set up, it is the other way around: I bring home the bacon, not my partner.  And with the economy not likely to recover, there is no change on the horizon.


After a three day weekend of doing this and that chores, I need to pack my briefcase and set out clothing for the morrow. I’ve done this routine for nearly twenty years. I will do so for another twenty five, provided a heart attack, cancer, or nuclear annihilation doesn’t get me first.


Hopefully this is not a complaint but a report of the state of my being.


There is no point in asking if the air is any good when there is nothing else to breathe.


That’s all for this Labor Day.