Dear Job, Why Do I Hate You? Let Me Count the Reasons...

Dear Job,

As I sit at my computer struggling to focus on the Marketing and Advocacy training manual  I am supposed to be writing, all I can think is how much I hate you.  I am truly sorry to say this, but I am an honest person, and I feel it is only right that you know how I feel about you.  I hate you.  I loathe you.  I can't stand the thought of you.  On Wednesdays, my "work" day, I have all I can do to crawl out of bed because I know I will spend the next eight hours forcing myself to look at you and think about you all the livelong day!  I hate you.  I hate you!  I HATE YOU!

Why do I hate you?  Let me count the reasons...

1. Because I am a stay-at-home mom, which means my days should be spent caring for my children and cleaning my house and preparing meals for my husband - you know, not WORKING!
2. Because I am a homeschooling mom, which means I already have a full-time job!
3. Because when I am working, I have to pay for my children to stay at someone else's house, which kind of defeats the purpose of being a stay-at-home mom.
4. Because what do I really care about marketing and advocacy?
5. Because I would so much rather be scrapbooking.
6. Because, if I am paying for kids to stay at someone else's house, I would much rather be enjoying this time taking a nice warm bath, followed by an hour long nap.  And then go shopping with my best friend.  :)
7. Because no amount of money in the world is worth the amount of stress you cause me.
8. Because I do.  And I'm the mom, so no more talking!

I know it wasn't always like this.  I used to enjoy spending time with you.  You were an escape from those overwhelmingly stressful toddler years.  But now, they're school-aged.  I'm homeschooling them.  And I cherish my time with them. 

I'm sorry to be so cruel.  But I've tried everything else I know to make you understand.  I've distanced myself by cutting you down to one day a week.  I've stopped thinking about you on the days we're not together.  You're just not going away, like I would like for you to.  So here's the bitter truth...

You've really become more of an intrusion than anything else.  I don't need you anymore.  So...
I quit.  I'm done.  We're no longer friends.  Now go away.

Regrettably yours,
Marci