Why am I still here?

So I'm still in my cubicle, toiling away, watching the clock, waiting for another day of drudgery to come to a close. The countdown to May 1 continues at a snail's pace. There has been a slight change of plans: while I am holding God and the Universe to the May 1 deadline for the much smaller task of providing an acceptable vehicle to replace my Ford, I gave them an extension to the Wednesday before Memorial Day weekend to make me a lottery winner. So Thursday, May 26 (when I find out Wednesday's Powerball results), could be the last morning I believe in any sort of god. I have decided that if a just god exists, He will not allow me to spend one more summer in this shit-hole office.

I've already got my exit strategy planned out. I would prefer to win a Friday or Saturday night drawing, so that the following day, I could come to the empty office, pack up my few personal belongings, and leave a snarky note in my cubicle, something to the effect of "I won the lottery! I'm outta here." I try not to keep personal items in my cubicle so that my exit will be quicker.

The perfect time for this to happen would be when I start my week's vacation at the beach this Spring. It would be right after I get paid, and my wife and I would be at our favorite place, away from it all, and free to think and plan. Plus with a newly-deposited paycheck, we could splurge on eating out and such during our vacation without worrying about paying the month's bills. Ahem! Are you taking a hint, God/Universe?

I've been wondering lately whether a huge cash infusion would change my hatred for the rich. If I had all my basic desires fulfilled, including retirement at age 30, an elegant primary residence, a fine but sensible automobile for each of us plus a spare, and a house at the beach, with millions in the bank earning a comfortable passive income, would I still resent rich people? In my current state of affairs, I abhor the rich. It's not only unfair, but just plain wrong, that there are people who "earn" millions of dollars a year while their underlings, without whose labor they would not prosper, receive pitiful salaries in the $20-$30K range, so that the top brass can acquire more shit no person needs: boats, private aircraft, extra cars, third & fourth homes, $2,000 suits, $600 shoes, and diamond-studded collars for their purebred canines. Some rich people justify their excessive income by citing the long hours they work, like 60 or 80 hours a week. So if one guy works 80 hours a week and receives $500,000 a year, why does another guy lower on the totem pole working 40 hours get $28,000? Are those extra 20-40 hours somehow worth 10 or 20 times as much as the first 40? The rich are driven by shameless, unbridled greed, and can't stop at just getting enough. For the rich, there's no such thing as enough. They want more, more, more, and don't give a shit about employees struggling to make ends meet. "Hmm, Bob does have 3 kids and a sick wife, but man, that 53-foot motor-sailor would be so awesome on my 2-week vacation." In order to delude themselves into thinking they're "giving back," they attend charity events with other rich people at which obscene amounts of money are spent on food and entertainment instead of going directly to the charity's beneficiaries, then take their "contribution" as a tax deduction while the gummint makes up the difference by sticking it to middle class clock-punchers. The abysmal earnings gap in this country just sickens me. While people do deserve some reward for taking greater risks and serving in leadership capacities, just how much more reward do they deserve than the people who come in every day and spend 8 hours of their lives making money for someone else?

I personally am sick of trading a third of my waking hours for a bad joke of a paycheck, and yet I'm pretty much stuck. Freelancing doesn't offer health insurance, which my wife needs and doesn't get through her employer and would be too costly to buy on our own. It's also too unreliable; you never know when you'll get your next paying gig, or whether the one you're working will pay up on time. My line of work doesn't command a huge hourly rate, anyway, thanks to the low value society seems to place on what I do, even though not many people can do it well. So here I sit, fuming about the privileged few who don't have to worry about weekly specials, coupons, and the price of gasoline, while desperately yearning to join their ranks. As soon as that happens, however, I will of course reverse my opinion and do all I can to keep the huddled masses' filthy hands off my cash.

Speaking of a third of my waking hours, I thought about it and realized I actually have less than 8 hours of truly free leisure time on weekdays. Think about it: I drive to work and back, and spend about 45 minutes getting ready to leave for work. I do have an hour for lunch, but I don't consider that leisure time since it severely limits what I can do in the span of 60 minutes. Don't forget evening meal preparation & consumption, about 45 minutes. Showering & drying off takes an additional 20 minutes. I don't go to sleep the instant I get in bed, so in order to get 8 hours and get up at 7:30, I have to be in bed around 11:00. So really it's more like 3 1/2 to 4 hours of time to do whatever the hell I want. What kind of ripoff is that? Work days should be reduced to 5 or 6 hours to make up for the time lost in daily self-maintenance activities. Cooking, eating, bathing, dressing, grooming, and driving to & from work are not leisure activities in my book.