Last week sometime I had the brightest idea. “I will take a day off,” I thought. “I deserve a day off. Hell, I deserve two days off. MAKE IT THREE!” Luckily I have 21 days of holidays saved up, plus a boss who believes in recreation, that is, vacation, not doing things over and over and over, and so here I am on the eve of a 6 day long weekend. See, cause it’s a long weekend and plus I’m taking three days off beforehand and so.
Hee!
I think I might actually be 4 years old. All I could do today, other than clean up enough of my work stuff so that the person sort of covering me doesn’t get mired in poop for the whole time was natter on to anyone who would listen: “I am going to the PNE and I am going to eat cotton candy and I am going to see ducks racing and I am going to look at the MIRACLE SHAMMY! but not buy one because who buys the miracle shammy?”
Occasionally, the silly co-workers would ask questions like, “So. Looking forward to your vacation?”
“MMMMM HMMMMMM!!”
“Whatcha gonna do?”
“GET A HAIRCUT! SLEEP! EAT!”
“Uh, cool?”
“DUCKS RACE and THERE IS POPCORN and HOT DOGS!”
“Yeah, cool, gotta go do something now…”
“FIRE IN THE NIGHT! FERRIS WHEEL! CANDY APPLES!”
Dispatches from the Great Pacific National Exhibition sure to follow.
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