I always believed in the idea that the easiest way of life was the best way of life. I never understood the people who worked sixty hours a week just to be able to buy another pair of fancy shoes they are only going to wear once. How many pairs of expensive black high heels did one need? I had friends who worked long hours only to see their families on the vacations they worked so hard for. When in reality, they could have worked less hours, seen their families more and still been on a great vacation. I always hated the fact people played so many games of how to keep up with the Jones’.
Don’t get me wrong, I do my work and do my work well, but when it is time to clock out, I am out the front door. I know my coworkers talk behind my back about the fact I do leave on time, but if they spent less time around the coffee machine, they could be leaving too. I knew most only liked their families where I was obsessed with mine. I wish I didn’t have to work and could be home all the time and live my life for them, but I knew they wouldn’t go for that idea. They told me they loved it when I was home, but they didn’t know the real story. I couldn’t have them figuring out about my past life. What I had done to their grandmother.