One of the many perks of being a nurse is that it’s not your typical ol’ nine-to-five job. My official schedule is 3:45 p.m. to 12:15 a.m., but I can pick up extra shifts or trade shifts so that I end up with an assortment of hours. Plus, I work a different combination of days so that each week is a bit different.
On the down side, I work every other weekend. But sometimes it’s actually kind of nice. There’s no Sunday blues, and when you’re leaving work at midnight on Sunday you feel like you cheated the system and got out of working Monday.
The hardest shift is midnight to 8 a.m. There’s nothing fun about heading to work at 11 p.m. as your sisters watch The Bachelor together and tuck into their warm beds. It only gets worse walking up 2nd Ave in the East Village as groups of girls head out in heels and couples walk out of restaurants hand in hand. Though of course, it’s fun once I’m actually at work.
On the weekends, I feel pressure to always be doing something fun to take full advantage of it. But having a Wednesday off feels luxurious because there’s no fear of missing out—everyone else is just at work. You don’t feel like you’re wasting time lounging around the house with the cat.
The house is at its most peaceful when everyone else is gone, the afternoon light fills the front rooms and the only sound is the faint ruckus of the Park Slope children coming home from school.
Oh, and the sound of Anna and Katie coming home from work is lovely as well.