Last night we were so short-handed at work I had to get into the trenches myself, which doesn’t happen often. It sucked. Tonight will be even worse. Oh, I could insert a roll of butcher’s paper into a manual typewriter, Kerouac-style, and crank out 20,000 words — single space, one paragraph — about my job. But Big Brother is watching.
Tonight’s going to be even worse. At least I’m going into it with my sensors set to SUCK. It’s harder when the SUCK sneaks up on you.
Yes, it’s quite a life I’ve carved out for myself…
I’ve also been working in the yard, trying to bring everything up to code. It looks a lot better, but I’m not completely finished. Tomorrow I’ll be out there again, attempting to get the last bit done… before my parents arrive.
They’re due to get here around 3 or 4 in the afternoon, and are staying until Tuesday morning. Our oldest son is graduating high school on Monday, and my folks are going to attend the ceremony. I’ll be glad to see them, but… my docket is full. There’s never enough time for additional activities, or preparations for said activities.
At this point I just endure stuff, and think things like “by this time on Tuesday… it’ll all be over.” Awesome.
It’s really humid, too. It’s not super-hot, but muggy as a mofo. I’m sitting here in my windowless bunker, typing with a face so shiny even James Brown would be appalled. “Hit that shit with a wet cloth, goddamn!” I believe the Godfather of Soul would advise.
High humidity makes things smell differently, too. Ya know? All that moisture unlocks hidden funks, and causes the whole world to smell a bit musty. Summer is bullshit. It’s number 4 on the Jeff Ranks the Seasons! chart. Summer can suck it.
And since I’m on a complaining roll… Our kids are out of school now, and already driving me insane. I love them, but they need to leave me alone for the first two hours of the day. Is that wrong? I require a window of time to eeeeease into the day. I’m not a morning a person; I don’t leap out of bed ready for action, like some psycho freak.
But they start peppering me with demands, before I’ve even had a chance to offload urine. “Can you take me to my dipshit friend’s house?” “Can I have ten dollars to buy burritos and sodas, and possibly weed?” “Can I bring my girlfriend over here, right this minute, to take over the entire bottom floor of the house, where your office is ‘n’ shit, and turn the volume up on the TV so high it can be heard inside passing aircraft?”
None of this stuff would bother me, if it happened outside the two-hour buffer zone. But when you’re crop-dusting your way down the hall, still half-asleep… Not a fan.
Of course, I’ll likely be sobbing like Nostrils in a rainstorm when the older boy moves away for college in a few months. It’s the circle of life, or something.
What’s bugging you, these days? Tell us all about it, in the comments section. Think of it as your virtual bartender, or counselor, or long-suffering friend. Get everything off your chest, it’s good for the soul.
And I better call it a week, my friends. One more night of undiluted hell at work, and I’m off for three days. Not three days of relaxation, unfortunately, but better than nothing.
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I’ll see you on Monday.