Party Wednesday. When I first started doing sub jobs, I thought I'd hire a cleaner to come every couple of weeks to clean the house, but when I did the math, it didn't make sense. I make $88/day subbing. A cleaner charges $100+.
So today, as I mopped and scrubbed and vacuumed, I had a dangerous conversation with myself about what I'm worth. Since I quit working in 1998, I haven't assigned a number to my time or what I do. It makes for a weird sense of identity, as I can't quantify my value.
See, everywhere else in the world, I am my wages. But here, I am a presence. The Mom. The Partner. Hopefully the Comfort Person. The maker of Home.
The Bible says my worth is far above rubies. I think I'll go with that.
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