A theme seems to be arising for today. One has been going on a little longer than just today.
My company has recently offered severance packages to something like 1,000 of our employees. I think that's at a rate of close to 10% of our workforce. Naturally, I've been worrying. I've been trying not to, and realizing that there's not much I can do about it. What will happen will happen - but we all know how well I do with things that are beyond my control. I try to make jokes about it. A friend called the other day to see how I was, and my response was, "hey, I still have a job!" I'm grateful for the fact that my id has continued to work every time I pull in the parking lot. I've been nervous to even write about it, for fear it will jinx me. But I know I'm not alone in these worries. I hope that it doesn't come down to a jinx.
Anyway, all that to say that it's been making me crazy anytime anyone complains about their job that's left around here. Now that's not to say that I don't have my moments of bitching about certain people at work or anything, but about the actual job and the duties that come along with it? Bring 'em on! And thank you. So I don't have a lot of patience for people that don't have that attitude.
In the midst of a situation that dealt with that, I got a phone call from my mother. My father, who has been running marathons and upgraded to triathlons a few years ago, has been medically advised to stop due to knee trouble.
I hate working out. But a few weeks ago, I started weight training on the recommendation of a chiropractor to help with my back pain. I have always known that I lack upper body strength. I mean, I have none. I recently joined our fitness center at work, with the hopes of taking classes, but the schedule hasn't worked out. So the chiropractor gave me a great opportunity to start using my membership. The weight training hasn't been nearly as mind-numbing as I find treadmills or free weights or any other form of exercise outside of dance that I've tried. I'm starting off nice and easy.
I was going to go this morning. But I talked myself out of it. Too tired, still a little sore from Tuesday. I'll go tomorrow.
Now, after receiving the call that my dad can't do something that he LOVES to do, I'm feeling really guilty about not going this morning. Here I am, able-bodied, still young enough to do these things...(and narcissistic enough to make my dad's injury all about me, apparently)
But it did make me stop and put two and two together: the job fears and my dad's injury. Working out and working may not make my top 5 list of things I love to do. But man, I sure am grateful at this moment that I can do both!