I got home from three weeks of shooting on Saturday afternoon. I'd say I was dog tired, except I have a dog, and she's never tired. Besides, it didn't matter that I was tired. My agency, squeezing me like a loan shark squeezes a debtor, had a lot lined up for me to do. As much as I would have liked to have taken Monday off, and Tuesday too, I was at my desk both days before 8:30.
Work for me is a compulsion. As I said, even when I am pissed (like I am now) and could use a couple days, if for no other reason than to thumb my nose at all the people who are a) getting rich off of my labor or b) taking me for granted or c) both "a" and "b," I have such an o'erweening sense of responsibility that I come in and I work.
Maybe it comes from my Shtetl-upbringing.
I'm sure my grandfather was out in the fields just hours after he and his family were beaten and raped by marauding Cossacks. That's what we do, we work.
So I was in early today and right at it.
Schmuck.
