Wouldn't it be nice if holding two full-time jobs meant 40hrs/wk? Then, that irritating feeling instilled by a typical work week, that our salary is ultimately meaningless beyond a certain point and surely isn't worth the slight but never-ceasing pain and suffering inflicted in a banal-yet-reliable way by the entire corporate hegemony (not with malicious ends but merely out of a desire to ensure the 2% year-over-year train never derails), not to mention the expression that one's spouse wears to cope with the reality that, by working your drone-bee life through its paces and building your career, you've stopped being the sexy intelligent beautiful person that they fell in love with and become an inhuman ghost whose presence at home is welcomed and tolerated only in exchange for ensuring that your childrens' college fund will be well-stocked when they turn 19 and decide to go live a five-year decadence party on your hard-earned pennies, an expression which is no longer full of love but only imitating it shallowly, could be sorrow-drowned not in intoxicants and prostitutes but in the knowledge that you are bringing home sufficient double-income bacon to ensure spousal endearment and the best Greek houses for your kids.
I dunno. I think it might be nice.