The "hustle culture" pendulum has made its way to the other end of the arc and found itself over in the "quiet quitting" section. Since most of you who read my blog are well into your 60's, I'll tell you that "hustle culture" was society's attempt to glamorize the fact that people need multiple jobs to make ends meet these days, and also to make sure that you monetize your hobbies. People have been scampering around working their real jobs, having side gigs, and then making money selling pictures of their feet on the internet. Now everyone is tired of working so hard, so they are "quiet quitting." This is society's response to the burn out; choosing not to work overtime, saying no to extra work, having hobbies for the enjoyment of them, and prioritizing cozy, happy time - whatever that looks like to you. It's America's long-awaited understanding of the siesta.
I was not a fan of hustle culture. I'm certain I don't need to explain why. And eeeeveryones been laughing at Lue all these years. Ol' self-employed, not money-motivated Lue. "Let me guess, you took a nap and had tea today didn't you, Lue?" People scoffed when I told them I baked bread today. They rolled their eyes when I turned down a high paying bride because I didn't like her attitude. They'd feign too much mental turmoil to ever read a book when I'd tell them that I had in fact, read a book that day.
Well who's laughing now, you quiet quitters? It's not me, I tell you. I'm real busy. Now that doing only what you need to do in order to be happy is acceptable in some circles, I've found myself (and my feller) at the infancy of dense undertakings. The kind that require "hustling," if you will.
First, there is the physical hustle that goes on over at the pet shelter. My co-workers' Fitbits are logging us in at walking 15-20 miles per shift. That does not account for that what must be... well hang on, let me do the math... 40 kennels, 3x's per shift, carry the two...a minimum of 120 squats per shift. Then there's the bending and the belly rubs and the mopping and the wild animal wrestling, and when I come home and finally sit down, my body locks up and I get stuck in a kind of fetal position shortly after dinner. I've sustained a number of injuries but the one lingering one is a sharp pain in my left butt cheek through to where my leg hooks on in the front. Something is wrong in there and I'm not young enough for it to heal before my next shift anymore.
From a mental, social, and leadership standpoint, the shelter is what the kids call a "dumpster fire" and I'm mentally on my way out of what was always going to be a temporary situation.
I've also got my chicken group working on a big campaign to get veg-options onto menus in local restaurants. (I must admit this is partially self-serving.) I like telling people what I'm up to with my chicken group because the phrase "chicken group" seems to make people laugh.
Most importantly, it's the season for holiday parties and Brett and I have been on a real bender. There's something every night! We're both mad about it because we're bored most of the year and there are few parties. Now there are too many and we are both introverts, so it wears us out. This Saturday we are hosting a sizable group for the annual Christmas party that goes on at Ari and Nate's house, but since they sold their home and are packing up, it got moved to our house. Once located at our house, Brett and I felt like we should invite our own friends, and now we have more butts than chairs. The fun news is that it has resulted in much holiday creativity, and what I cleverly referred to as "crafternoons" which resulted in a pitying look from Brett.
