....and Sunday giveth more, but what of Monday?

Here it is, Sunday night, the clock ticking as clothes are laid out, lunch packed, last-minute lecture notes prepared, and Palm Pilot reviewed for Monday's schedule. The mind leaps into future/planning mode and the week's trajectory is mentally mapped.

Is there some excitment as the week looms on the horizon of morning? Honestly? Not tonight.

Is there a sense of wishing there was just one more day to be at home and care for self and family? Oh, yes.

Does it sometimes feel like work gets in the way of so many other things which cry out for attention and time? Astronomically so. It has nothing to do with hating work or resenting needing to do so. Work is said to be love made visible. Perhaps it's the Puritan work ethic, the forty-hour week, the paltry two weeks of vacation per year, and the pressures of productivity which decrease the joy experienced when working. I once had a caseload of 35 patients---a luxury. Now, with just over 80, the amount of information juggled at any given time is wildly stress-inducing. In this world where money rules all----whether it be a lack or an abundance thereof----many of us suffer while caught in the wheels.

What is a middle-class professional American to do? Embrace what is, put best foot forward, and try to do more than simply survive. If work is such a central aspect of identity and purpose, then make those hours count.

Short of that, plan vacation and early retirement.