Nope. 
Sometimes is fantasize about hanging up my tie and going back to driving trucks like I did when I was in my early 20s. Those were the good old days. Yessiree.
I’m retired.
This morning I got up early, 8:30. Checked the news, pulled a few weeds out of the flower bed, met a couple of friends for brunch and sat around gabbed for an hour or so.
Came home, looked to see what was going on on the dope, made a couple of posts. Decided to start a little project that had been hanging around for a while. This required going to Lowe’s and looking at stuff. Got into a conversation with some old duffer about the pros/cons of pine versus hardwoods for outside use Having looked over Lowe’s offerings it will take a week or so for it all to sink in so some rational decisions can be made.
Spent an hour or so reading, “Independent People.” A little time went to working on a poem.
Checked on the brown spot in the front yard and decided that it was turning green at a reasonable rate.
Walked around the back looking over the fruit trees and found one had aphids so I poured a little de-aphidizer around it.
Called some out of town friends to confirm they’d be staying with me next week. This will call for, sometime in the next few days, laying in a store of ribs and beer.
Thought some vegtable, beef soup would be good for dinner so I whopped up a bucket full which is bubbling merrily along as I type.
Tomorrow being Saturday I don’t think I’ll be as nearly harried and rushed.
Man, I just live for these, “I hate work,” related threads.
This makes me feel better. I fantasize about going back to bussing tables when I was in high school. That job rocked, and I met my first serious girlfriend there.
What was it that Matt Groening wrote in Work Is Hell?
3 things you know for sure:
- Your boss is crazy.
- Your coworkers are crazy.
- You’re starting to fit right in.
Matt Groening knows a thing or two.
Sandy, I hope your dentures fall into that pot and melt as your soup bubbles merrily along.
Then I hope that you have to go to the denture store, or wherever you old guys who drive 15 MPH in the fast lane go for Insta-teeth, and the denture store guy tells you that they’re all sold out and you have to rush like hell to find a pair of third-rate dentures so that you don’t have to strain those lima beans in your soup through your gums.
Then I hope your coke-bottle glasses fall into your beer in front of your friends, and they all make jokes about how you can’t be trusted with something as dangerous as BBQ ribs, which, by the way, I hope get eaten by aphids.
j/k, man, congratulations on making it to retirement. May the company be as warm as the weather and and the beer as cold as the air-conditioning.
I used to hate Joan.
She put a four page add on monster.com for a job with responsibilities that she hadn’t figured out even after I’d been there over a month. She kept changing her mind about what I was supposed to do. Oh and the salary was somewhere between slightly above poverty level and you’ve got to be kidding. She then threw a hissy fit when I later revealed I was pregnant.
Um sweetie pie, you do realize that when you put an add out with such high qualifications and such a mediocre salary you’re not exactly going to attract the ideal candidate? The economy was bad but it wasn’t that bad. I only took the job because it was ten minutes from my house and I was pregnant and did not want go on a job interview in maternity clothes. The shady business practices you engaged in made me more naseous than morning sickness.
I’m so glad I no longer work there.