Free time: what I do with it

I'm learning fairly quickly here that housekeeping somehow maintains both an unpredictable and unwavering routine. Our schedules work the same way most restaurants do––they're posted weekly with our names neatly typed into the blocks of time we're assigned to for each day. That means I can technically see in advance whether or not I'll have to clock back into work at 4 PM (meaning definitely not out until 5/5:30 PM). Alternatively though, much of our clock-out times are determined by how fast or slow we get things done. Some days I can bang out the bathrooms in a little over an hour, allowing me to get a head start on my rooms and voila; I could be completely done in the afternoon or I could carve myself out a nice long two-hour midday break. Of course this theory goes both ways. Some days require more room-cleaning than others and I'd be lying if I said I haven't had a slow morning or two that's forced me to work straight through to dinner. For the most part though, I try to find a balance between working hastily enough to buy myself some down time, but thoroughly enough so as not to miss anything.

I suppose that's the trouble with hourly wage employment. It's a constant battle between wanting to get out sooner, but also wanting to make money. And while some days my priorities lie with financial stability, I find myself valuing time on others.

So what do I do when I have this free time between cleaning toilets and fluffing pillows? Lately I've been walking up to the lighthouse when the weather's nice (which is an interesting choice seeing how tired I normally am and how much of an uphill walk that one is). I'm working on a drawing up there where I can see the entire island in all of its glory––cemetery, houses, Manana Island and all. The spot is usually crowded with tourists and painters, so I often have to race walk ahead and elbow my way to my favorite park bench, but it's worth it. When the sun comes out, the breeze rustles through, and I finally plop down to take a break––I know I've made it.

On less gorgeous days or shorter periods of midday free time, I'll buy wine from the grocery store or write in my room like a true struggling artist. But like I said before, I avoid napping or spending lounge time on my bed at all costs considering the amount of sweat, chemicals, and bacteria that I accumulate throughout the day.

As far as days off go, we only get one of them a week, and it's typically not on a consistent day: a Tuesday here, a Sunday there. Not knowing when I'll get to sleep in next adds a fun little surprise to each week, but it does make pre-planning visits from friends and trips to the mainland particularly difficult.

On my first day off last week, I tried to do all the local things I normally don't have time to try out. I went for a hike, did my laundry, took some photographs, sketched, had a picnic, bought a latte *GASP* (A.K.A. the Monhegan version of treat yo'self), went to the brewery, watched the sunset with friends, and capped the night at someone's house with cheap wine, drunken conversation and impromptu guitar. The perfect Saturday if you ask me.

On my day off this week, I decided to hike Trail #1 which loops around the entire outside of the island, offering about eight spots to stop at breathtaking coves along the way. I'm actually not a huge fan of hiking (hopefully that surprises some of you, I do try to uphold a somewhat outdoorsy reputation). I find that walking on flat ground at a calm pace is much more suitable for me than tripping over roots and scrambling uphill over sharp rocks. Regardless, I knew I had to do the infamous trail loop eventually and figured this was the perfect opportunity to really see the whole place.

About two-thirds of the way through I stopped to eat lunch at Burnthead and do a little drawing and sunbathing. Coincidentally, I ran into a friend named Fern there who works at The Barnacle and also had the day off. We did some sketching and listening to music before heading back into town, but along our way we bumped into Tristan who owns the kayak rental company.

"You wanna go kayaking in like 30 minutes?" he asked from inside his old truck window.

"Sure!" I replied without thought. I'd never really been kayaking myself aside from the shallow waters of Pequawket Lake, but deep sea water seemed like a good place to learn. Not to mention that it was free!

We went out on the water as a group of seven including a few mutuals and coworkers, linking up initially to drift along the harbor, catch up, and crack a few beers in the sun. The water was incredibly calm making me feel ridiculous for ever having the slightest sense of worry. I loved everything about it. We rowed through mini islands and ledges, kayaked alongside seals, and though we did not come across any whales or giant tuna, it apparently happens more often than you'd think. We stopped at a few "beaches" which I say lightly because the sand is really just giant, smooth boulders. Eventually we made our way to Pulpit Rock which according to Tristan is "the most magical spot on the island." He showed me the perfect spot for grilling and campfires along with the treacherous 50- and 75-foot cliffs that local adrenaline seekers jump from on a hot day. By the time we reached home I was sunburnt, hungry, and felt like I'd just completed a week's worth of arm exercise––but it was amazing and I made sure to tell Tristan that I'd be over-the-moon to go anytime he had an open spot again.

It's funny, everyone at The Monhegan House knows when you have your day off because you dress like a human being with style and taste for a change. For instance, I came down for breakfast on my first free day at a leisurely 9 AM wearing overalls, a sweater, clean shoes, a bit of makeup and slightly curled hair and it was as if I had changed my identity.

"Look at you! You look so... different––I like it!" Said our head chef as he started recruiting other coworkers to look at and appreciate my changed presence. I took it as a compliment even though I knew deep down it only confirmed my slovenly appearance for the other six days of the week. Even along the road as I passed fellow employees and mutuals, folks were wishing me a "happy day off!" as if I had a neon sign around my neck that read "I'M OFF THE CLOCK!" The support is ultimately hilarious and kind though, I love how we all want each other to have restful days. The other interesting bit is how fascinated everybody is with what you did with your day off. Asked like a pop-quiz with a definite right and wrong answer, it feels almost shameful to say that you spent your time catching up on sleep or running errands. I think secretly we all just want to live vicariously through one another's off time and that means making the most of the daylight.

Of course we all need to pop over to the mainland every once and a while for our brief sabbaticals. Whether it be for booze (no liquor sold on Monhegan!), supplies, or merely to step foot on continental soil, at least a once-a-month trip via the ferry seems sufficient for sanity.

As we only get one "weekend" day per week, it means our work schedules really only consist of Mondays, Fridays, and Sundays. Figuratively speaking of course, but it's true. Unless it's the night before your day off, or the day of, none of the other days really matter or differentiate themselves. It's an extreme lifestyle that I suppose mimics the mindset of seasonal work itself: grind for a while, then take an indulgent break and repeat.

I never really thought of myself as someone who would thrive or even tolerate that kind of work ethic, but maybe Monhegan is changing me because a bit of self-funded adventurous travel as a reward for a long four months of housekeeping seems preeetttttyyyyy worth it now.