The reality of work

So some friends came up on Friday. Brought Jeremy with them. Three ridiculously fun unemployed 20somethings. Free to do things like move to Bella Coola or leave their homes for a week and go visit Bella Coola. I've given this freedom up, at least for a little bit, in order for what I have. A job, a salary, a "purpose". For the most part, I like my purpose. I like getting paid well for what I do. I like doing what I do. But sometimes, and often on Monday mornings, I don't. I don't like having to fight with kids to get them to read a few paragraphs. I don't like having to fight with kids period. I don't like liars and I don't like being lied to. And this morning, I kind of wish that I was the unemployed 20something, visiting someone who supposedly had their life together...