Some cheese with that whine?
Saturdays are so different now that I’m not working. Wait. At work. They used to be a time of reminding myself that there was a different world I was supposed to be a part of but couldn’t muster the energy to care about. I was always pulled between sleeping in, and getting up early to sit and think about nothing — enjoy my coffee, go out on the patio before everyone else was awake in the neighborhood starting lawnmowers, or talking loudly as they pass by with their jogging or cycling companions, causing our doggo to bark. It’s easy to think about nothing when you’re completely whipped up after a week you’ve spent running as fast as you can and never getting anywhere. Ever.
If I had been a bit more creative about getting out and doing things the rest of the world has always done, I’d probably still be working.
Yuck. That’s a completely dreary concept at this point. Sure, let me get right in line for that. Who the hell actually wants to work? Be serious. We all just want money to fall from the sky.
The only thing working having a job would improve at this point is that I’d actually have income. You know, dough in the bank to pay bills with. I could go shopping. Real shopping. Buy shiny things just because I can, but that I don’t need, and probably don’t really want once I get them home. And think of all the cash I’m saving by just not having to wear real clothes every day. Or having my hair done at the salon every seven weeks for the last 10 years. I won’t be doing the math on that one. Taking care of roots in Paradise isn’t cheap. Well, I suppose it can be, but, well, I am worth more, you know?
I can hear the violins starting their traditional and well-timed whine, so enough of this maudlin philosophical crap which isn’t very heartfelt anyway. I have to go and pound the sidewalk with my VBF who is SO cheating on the Phoodplan. Seriously cheating almost every day.
We’re going to walk down in the village (real Paradise-ites’ loving endearment for their charming home town and which I shouldn’t use because I’m only a nouveau poser) today and gawk at all the tourismos who are out and about on this already sparkly blue day.
It will resemble being at the zoo. Only these animals wear very large bling and speak with exotic accents.
We will do our best not to offend them as we leave them in our sweaty wake in our very not bab-i-fied grunge wear.
