I read fiction this morning. On a Tuesday, on the couch, at 7am, with my smoothie.
I never read fiction in the morning. I read it on the weekends after my chores are done. I read it at night after my day’s work is done. Fiction is a reward: it is my treat for working hard. It is my delayal of gratification.
Usually on a weekday morning with my smoothie, I sit on the couch not with a novel but with my phone, scrolling through communications at work that took place after I signed off the day before, catching up on P2s (internal blog posts), and going through my calendar and to-do list for the day. Then I switch to coffee and start writing for work, whether replying to backscroll on Slack, responding to P2s, or simply saying good morning and hanging out (via text) at the water cooler.
Today with my coffee I’m writing for my own blog. Like reading fiction, blogging is a reward to me. I love days off so I can write for me or for Butterfly Mind, even if only for a few minutes.
So why all these rewards on a Tuesday? I’m working this Saturday and I’m taking a flex day today. While it’s often tricky to work a weekend day, what with soccer games and swim meets and transporting kids and having kid friends over and doing generally anything with the family since weekends are the only occasion we all four have time off together, I love working a weekend day when I can. Weekend work is often quieter and more focused because there are fewer folks online working, but also, weekend work means a flex day during the week.
And I love days off during the week.
I ran by the grocery store after dropping my husband off at work this morning and it was quiet and empty. Going to the grocery store when everyone else is at work is pretty high on the list of why random weekdays off are awesome.
When I take a weekday off, the house is also quiet and empty. The kids don’t need to be driven anywhere, and I can take care of things we are often too busy even on the weekends to get to. I have a stack of doctor bills and FSA paperwork to go through today, which I’m dreading, but at least I’ll have a quiet space to do it in. I’ll also be able to take care of this lawn that’s out of control after Saturday’s rain.
Maybe I’ll even go for a walk outside instead of on my tread desk, and listen to Annie Proulx read on the New Yorker Fiction Podcast.
And during the day, despite whether it’s morning or night, or whether I’ve finished all of my flex day to-dos, I’ll take breaks to write in my journal and read fiction, simply because I can.
If you like the sound of this kind of flexibility in your work, why not join us? We’re hiring.