Work,
Think,
Eat,
Drink,
Wake,
Walk,
Type,
Talk,
Work,
Work,
Work.
As Aristotle once said: “all paid work absorbs and degrades the mind.” I have been working my n#ts off this week – heavy lifting from start to end – and a good deal of it thankless.
We end the week in a much much better place than we started – but the narrow steam of technicolor bandwidth which is my ‘consciousness’ has been totally absorbed in work, work, work.
For the first time in many months, at the weeks end, I can’t recall a single original or worthwhile thought in the last five days, that hasn’t been yoked to the chariot of work. I have been one of Illia Repin’s Barge haulers on the Volga.
Work owes me this week, I am paid a salary for my labour not my soul. Onward.
Achilles & Aristotle 
“I can’t recall a single original or worthwhile thought, in the last five days, that hasn’t been yoked to the chariot of work”.
With the three legged stool of work, family and hobbies in mind: as long as it isn’t the endemic pattern, is there anything wrong with the work dimension providing the worthwhile thought – as long as it is worthwhile – episodically? Not something to have as the default, because that would make the legs so imbalanced that the stool would fall over. But … rue the demands of the workplace without denying the space it provides for worthwhile thought.