Kinda sucks, doesn't it?
Christmas is dead, baby. Gone.
I always say that vacations don't "take". In other words, vacations are exceptional until the first second back on the job. Then your life picks right up where it left off - sucking.
You should be able to bask in the glow of your 2 week trip to Ibiza, but it doesn't work that way.
As soon as you walk in, the bossman says "Joe - I'll need you to clean the mens' room before you sit down - Jacob has a nasty case of explosive diarrhea - grab a mop and 4 rolls of paper towels. And I'll need you to work OT tonight - I need our quarterly financial statements completed and proofed before you leave. Priscilla was scheduled to get a head start on them before you got back, but she died. Welcome back!"
Holidays work that way too. Even more dramatically.
One day of sweet enjoyment, then Blam! - back to the grind.
I have today off from work and I suspect a lot of other people do too. Unfortunately, there are a hell of a lot of people who do not have the day off - these are the people packing six shooters and Bowie knives at work.
I work two days this week, Wednesday and Friday - a total of 7 hours. I should be able to handle that. No guarantees, though.
When I get out of work on Friday, it will be My Birthday Eve Eve. Saturday will be My Birthday Eve. Sunday is My Birthday.
Holy fucking shit, kids - it is coming. Bringing along with it another new year.
2023. What the fuck is that? The years are starting to look and feel strange to me. I mean, come on - I was born in 1954. Nineteen Fucking Fifty Four.
Humans were barely starting to walk erect in 1954.
I am going to be 69. 69. 69. 69. This is getting fucking ridiculous. I don't want to be 69 and I don't want to be dead.
I want to be 40. It tells you where I am in life when forty seems like such a youthful and attractive age.
Anyway, here it comes. Here we go. My birthday. My fucking birthday.
Gotta resolve a few issues between now and Sunday.
Raise a glass to me, won't you?
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