Alone Time

It’s always nice to have a little bit of time to yourself. Which is the great thing about Sunday nights here at work. You get bucketfuls of it.

The last couple of wells have certainly has their ups and downs. The weather has finally taken a turn for the warm and the mountains of snow are disappearing at a pretty good clip. Too bad the thaw couldn’t have started about a week and a half ago; the day my car’s exhaust tried to do the splits as I was driving down the road. Boy that was a loud six block drive back to the house. And an even louder drive to the muffler shop the following day. I drove as carefully as I could, knowing that the wire hanger patch job I’d put together would barely hold up. Naturally, it didn’t hold at all. Which turned what was to be a $21.50 reattachment into a $35 replacement. Thankfully the guy who runs the shop is a reasonable human being who doesn’t charge an arm and a leg for the labor. If you need proof of what I’m saying, drop by sometime and count the number of wire hangers on his shop floor. Guy probably makes a mint by way of recycling.

It was a miracle I even got in as fast as I did; when I made the initial appointment, I was told I’d have to wait over a week just to get it looked at. But that’s not even the best news I’ve had lately; my little brother is coming home for a visit! It’s been quite a long ship deployment for a guy who hasn’t been in anything deeper than a backyard pond during his youth. Here’s hoping my mother’s care packages and my thumb drive full of videos have managed to keep him same during those words at sea. Only time will tell… until I can personality evaluate him.

Just filed my annual paperwork. It’s taken five years, but I finally have two weeks paid vacation to call my own. I also have to schedule time off next month for my class reunion. Fifteen years since I waked out of my high school for the last time as a student, and about a week since the last time I dreamed I was the world’s oldest freshman. The dreams themselves don’t bug me; just the prospect of being back in school like in some Adam Sandler comedy from the mid 1990s, only without the prospect of a romantic interest waiting for me after my second graduation.


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