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After three long months — and landing a new job — I finally had the day I should have been having throughout my unemployment this summer. It seems I even procrastinate about the good things, too. I’m not sure what the hell is wrong with me.
But at least I finally got it right. I got up and got some things accomplished. In this case, I went to a meeting for my new job, to get ‘acclimated’ into the workplace a little early.
(Or was that ‘assimilated’? ‘Aggravated’? I can’t remember. So maybe it was ‘Alzheimersated’. Who knows?)
By noon, I was done. By one-thirty, I was on a golf course, playing a few holes with a friend of mine playing hooky from work.
(Speaking of which, have you ever noticed how many good things start with ‘hook’? There’s ‘hooky’, and ‘hookah’, and even ‘hookers’. When you love doing something, you’re ‘hooked’. When you get your gullible friend to do something stupid, you say he went for your gag ‘hook, line, and sinker’. Really, I’m beginning to think there’s nothing bad that starts with ‘hook’.
Makes me want to try one of those ‘hookworms’ all the kids are raving about these days. Might be fun.)
Anyway, I played like shit, but that’s pretty standard. (You may remember my earlier diatribe on how much golf sucks, and I suck at it. If not, then fricking go read it. How dare you forget my shit so quickly?) Still, it was a damned fine way to spend an afternoon. After nine holes, it was back to the pro shop for a beer — hey, we had to have something to cry in about our ineptitude out there — and then back home.
Just in time, as it happens, to turn right around and hit a local watering hole and watch the Red Sox beat those damned Yankees. A couple more beers, some good food, and a Boston win. Nothing could be finer. And there’s none of this ‘getting up early’ shit going on tomorrow, so I can sleep as long as I damned well please. I love it when a plan comes together.
I just have one question — where the hell was this shit in June? Or July, or August, or even September? What the hell is wrong with me? I spent more weekdays this summer mowing the goddamned grass than I did playing golf! I mean, I know I’m old, but when did I become clinically retarded? Can I have a do-over for the summer? Please?Permalink | No Comments
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