Responsibility.

I haven't worked for three years. Prior to that, I'd worked sit-down jobs for about two years. I've been trying to get a job, of course, but nobody's been hiring. Suddenly, my family and I have to move, so we decide it's finally time to put down roots and buy a home, instead of renting. Our real estate agent hired a handyman to fix up our old place to make it fit for the market. And so I, in my infinite wisdom, hit him up for a job.


So here I am, 30 years old, with joints on their way out from misuse, and at least six years out of shape, working in one of the most physically strenuous vocations available.


BUT! I had faith in myself (along with what felt like a gazillion years of pent-up energy after waking from a sixteen-hour sleep).


How I felt the first couple of days:

But it probably looked more like this:

By the end of the week, it was more or less like this:

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about my job. On the contrary; I love it. The problem is that I was burning the wick at both ends, between going full steam into a vocation I wasn't prepared for, combined with hauling everything from my old house to my new one. I've got several physical ailments that could prove dangerous if I don't take care to allow them time to heal. My boss and I discussed the situation and resolved it, so I won't have to worry about losing my newly acquired job any time soon.

Either way, I wish I didn't have to grow up so soon.