A government shutdown…or at least a threat of it.
That’s it. That’s all I want.
When the trading day quickly evolves into a non-stop, 24/7, never-sleeping intrusion into my life, the struggle of leaving work, at work, and not bringing it home appear to be a quaint remembrance of more civil times. Now, there is no need to worry about habitually taking work home. Work is already home. Home is where we work.
The blending of these once-antithetical realms presents more problems than just child-wrangling and overeating. If not monitored, the two realms begin to trade thoughts with each other, allowing work related instincts and attitudes to sway the normally tame “home brain.”
So, when I woke up this morning and peeked at the news, I was delighted to see that Congress appeared uncertain as to the scope and detail of a pandemic-inspired stimulus bill. I’d like to think I would usually greet such information with a bit of contempt for our pathetic delegates, but at 7 AM this morning, I could have not been more pleased. My work thoughts had pervaded my home thoughts.
Dark, cynical observations that I once banished to the work-world now live comfortably alongside my civilian thoughts — just as my office is situated next door to my bedroom. I didn’t scold myself for wishing the worst. I awoke to a market up and volatility down. I need the market down and volatility up!
Come on Congress, make this poor boy’s Christmas wish come true.