Today was an unusual day. Once or twice a year, depending on what specific day of the week holidays happen fall on, The Company That Pays The Bills requests that we put in a workday on Saturday in order to get time off later. For instance, if Independence Day is on a Thursday, we might work the Saturday before in order to avoid dragging our sorry hang-overs in on the Friday afterward. It’s not hard to rationalize that working the occasional Saturday is worth having a four-day weekend, right?
I said occasional above, but one Saturday that will, for certain, always be a workday is the one immediately prior to Thanksgiving. Everyone wants that Friday off. In fact, the idea of working on the day after Turkey Day is just plain objectionable. Honestly, I don’t think I even own a pair of pants to wear on Black Friday that would be acceptable within the confines of the company dress code. After eating the equivalent of one of those Smart Cars on Thanksgiving, I’m lucky to change out of my Hello Kitty* sleep pants that day.
So I worked today. For the record, rationalization or not, not many of us really enjoys working the Saturday before Thanksgiving, Black Friday off or not. I do have to admit, though, it’s not really so bad. Because the day falls outside of the regular schedule of things, there are no meetings, no conference calls, no harassment about the cover sheet on one’s TPS report, or basically any foolishness of any kind. For those of us that work best in a bubble and need calm air for problem-solving, it’s a good day to get stuff done. It’s kind of like a very brief, focused version of that last week of the year, the one between Christmas and New Year’s, which I’ve always thought is the best week of the year for office productivity.
Unfortunately, it’s not quite so great for the Puddinette. Since she spends the majority of each work week splitting her personality between serving as the primary caregiver for our heathen brood during the day and working from home during the evenings, her weekends serve as a kind of Sanity Oasis. I hang around the house and keep the kids from devolving into Lord of the Flies while she catches up on stuff, does the grocery shopping in relative peace, and basically tries NOT to be responsible for anything more complex than getting a bargain.
Saturday work days kind of screw with all that.
So when I got home from the office today, I set her free, which is good because she spent the better part of the morning salivating over the weekend pre-Black Friday ads. I noticed a half-crazed look in her eyes upon my arrival that said “there are deals out there, deals we should be getting, but I’ve been stuck here at home.
Once she fled the household on the hunt for Mass Dealz, I decided that she’d done her time and deserved a treat. So I set about straightening up the house with the kids. Upon her return, not only did I find that she’d had a great shopping day, she was so impressed with our initiative that she looked at me with a certain twinkle in her eye that suggested that she suddenly remembered why she’d married me.
I folded the socks too, which I’m pretty sure qualifies me for sainthood. Admittedly, that probably won’t happen, but there’s an awfully good chance I’m going to get to sleep in tomorrow. And if that isn’t worth putting a few hours in at the office and then having the kids clean up the house, well, I don’t know what is.
And that, my friends, that is taking a hard, orange, stinky gourd and making pumpkin pie.
*Just kidding. I have one Cincinnati Bengals’ pair (which I’m considering burning out of spite) and two pairs of Guinness. I could use some Arrogant Bastard branded ones, hint hint.