Today is my first day back at work in a month (and two days). For someone as insecure as I am, who defines who he is by what he does (it's pathetic, I agree but an excellent coping device), it feels a lot longer.
I'm too smart to ask my wife, with whom I celebrated our 35th wedding anniversary yesterday, how it felt to her lest she actually tell me. I realize she promised all those years ago in the Rathaus to love me for better and for worse but NOT so much for three meals a day, every day for a month.
Both of us are happy I am no longer underfoot around the house at least no more than I normally am. How happy the people for and with whom I work will be about my return may take some time to sort out. We needn't look up the parable of the prodigal son as a reference for their reaction.
Aside from it being (more) quiet on my part of the shared hallway, many may not have noticed I was gone though even fewer will realize I have returned. I should tell you I don't have a hard or difficult job and I compensate for that by not being very good at it. I used to get away with indifferent performance earlier in my career by being handsome, gambling people preferred decorative to functional. I was right at that time, but now I have to wait for dusk.
I was actually away from work longer, much longer, for the convalescence after each of the knee surgeries but this time around I have a few more miles on the odometer, a couple more dings in the paint, and more gray in the hair but less hair on the head than the last time I rode the painted pony on the carousel. Except that the alternative terrifies me, I'm positive growing old sucks.
Needless to say, I'm not sure how I feel about returning to work. The jury is still out on that whole 'labor and we'll pay you' model of remuneration. I'll let you know how many co-workers are as thrilled as I with my return at sharpening the cutting edge on the sword of freedom. You can probably already guess-if you're good with fractions.