To me, a day off means just that. Off. As in, do nothing.
A day off is a day to relax, to unwind and not to worry about all the shit that’s been plaguing me at work. I need to decompress from the considerable amount of stress I’ve been under, enjoy some time with my family and allow my brain to literally stop working for just a bit.
But my wife doesn’t share my definition of a day off.
To her, a day off from work simply means shifting her work mentality to focus on issues at home. Her “day off” means doing laundry, cleaning the house, finishing off the dishes, paying bills and running errands. In short, her perception of a day off is often busier than work itself.
Look, I’m not an idiot. I understand all those things are chores that have to be completed. But they don’t all have to be done today, especially when Sundays are the only day we get to spend together as a family. And soon we won’t even have those because let’s face it, football season is starting! I go to half the games because my dad has season tickets and the other half will consist of me and Will going to my parents house to watch DirectTV’s Sunday Ticket all day to root on the Patriots and our fantasy teams.
I just want to spend time with my family on my days off and do nothing but enjoy them. I don’t want to clean, I don’t want to do the laundry and I’ll worry about the damn dishes later. Human beings (seemingly with the exception of my wife) need to have some “chill” time or else they will go postal. But unfortunately my choices today are hop on board the MJ-OCD-must-get-everything-done-today Express or laze around on the couch while she does all the chores and makes me feel like a lazy, good for nothing slob.
I might as well go into work.