At this time yesterday, I was sipping a hot cup of Starbucks, fresh from the French press. I was just about to initiate the weekly requisite face-washing, hair-brushing, shoe-tying frenzy to get The Skinnies ready for church, enjoying the last few moments of peace and quiet with my wife. These are the simple, unsophisticated moments that money can’t buy, and the ones that I cherish the most. Yesterday was no exception. I was reminded again that I am rich beyond measure in every way that really matters. I am blessed.
Twenty four hours later, I’m sitting on a conference call wrangling with a client on another continent about the scope of an “out-of-box” database whitepaper and whether it appropriately covers general connectivity options and interoperability. I can’t help but not care about the details of a deep-dive whitepaper, or the compulsory round of reviews and edits, or sign-off, or the high-level expectations of some seminar attendees 4 weeks from now. I just want to go back to that sun-kissed morning, twenty four hours ago. I felt so far removed from work and business-as-usual. This rubbish was truly the farthest thing from my mind.
It’s difficult to get motivated about work when the deepest, truest passion of my heart is in a house on a street in another town. Don’t get me wrong. I do enjoy my job. I even like (most of) my coworkers. It just feels like I’m engaged in a daily exchange of the prime hours of the most precious, priceless years of my household for the vocational use of a desk, a couple of monitors, and 50GB hard drive. Maybe I’m just melancholy, but the luster of leveraging my core competencies is wearing thin today. Work feels monotonous and uninspiring.
I suppose this is just the plight of a heartsick husband and father of five in America. I should shut my yapper and get back to work – thankful that I have a family and job, albeit torn between the two.
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