Not Anymore
Monday. A second week, a second Monday of getting up out of bed later than a young working man should and not immediately getting dressed and heading downtown to an office. Somewhere inside elements in my body are starting to wonder what's up. Is it safe to relax? Nah, he's never taken a vacation longer than a week before, this is a trick. Hold tight.
Ms. Emmy: does she notice I'm around during the week? I doubt Ms. Emmy calculates in terms of days or weeks, more likely in terms of it's time to eat, it's time to sleep, it's time to curl up on his lap and have her ears scratched. Still, what's all this hanging out about the house?
You said you felt better for a period yesterday, how's the head?
The head is OK and I had a similar flash at my late (ever so wonderfully late) breakfast this morning. Still, I think I'll have to let the effects of the bottle of sake I drank last night wear off to be sure. I can feel an upbeat attitude developing, but it needs more time, needs to believe this last day of work business is the real deal and not just some weird period of unemployment brought on by an outsourcing program conducted by a container ship company.
You work for a container ship company?
Not anymore.
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