Some days. . . .

It pains me to complain (no it doesn't) but some days I really wonder what the hell I'm doing.
Working at a place for $8.74 an hour that will not guarantee me any sort of regular schedule or even **begin** to give
me any sort of priority when it comes to holidays and family sickness. . . . JUST so we can have health coverage.

The tradeoff is of course, being insured, having disability insurance, having a 401k and stock options (that are unfortunately both in the CRAPPER) free coffee, and little to no stress from the job itself.

I miss out on a lot. It's annoying.

And what's more annoying is that a national healthcare program would alleviate my need to go outside the home to find employment and leave me with tons more time to do the things I would love to do for a living (sell stuff on etsy, teach piano or violin, teach childbirth education classes, be a doula, and of course write). I'm not complaining about having to work, I really need to be able to, for myself and the family, but sometimes I feel as though I'm trapped in this ridiculous (often dramatic) retail workplace dead-end.

Many days I feel like giving UPS a call (weekends and holidays off).

If I don't get Thanksgiving off I am going to literally set fire to something. Like a starbucks cup.