Working Day Go Away

Spent the night with fussy Son#3 whose teeth are seriously bothering him, alternated by lying awake thinking about work and stress and how to get rid of it all.  Sleep wasn't to be mine last night.

Had it out with my boss yesterday, some of my extra hours will be paid, the rest of my schedule must be adjusted to fit into my hours.  After my talk with him yesterday, I wrote a long stinging letter.  Today the emotion has died down and I mostly find it a sad affair:  He said that most workers work overtime.  Surely this can't be a good thing?

My time is valuable.  
About 20 years ago I bought a little book, 'Buddha's Little Instruction Book' by Jack Kornfield.  In it, the most precious thing I've ever heard:  

The trouble is, you think you have time.

Could anything be more true?  
You think there will be time left to give the child you snubbed this morning a kiss again this evening, to speak kind words to the husband, to phone your parents.  
But things don't always work that way.

Remuneration for  work compensates me for my time away from the people and things that bring me joy and peace, things that provide me with energy.  
Hopefully, work is also a source of energy in one's life.
It seems only fair then, managers of this world, that you compensate workers well for the time they endeavour to help you look good.  

My life might be short or long, I won't know until I get to the end.  
Time is such a precious commodity.  
Underestimated.  
I'm just going to kiss almost everyone today.





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