Am taking a break on Victoria Day Monday. Reacquainting me'self with the bloggin', in this four minutes while the tea in the ol' smirkin' mug spins on the glass tray inside the microwave.
The best kind of break, this. Am home, not at work, because today's a holiday, exactly. And it's me taking a break in my own day full of some of the doings I haven't been able to get to because of that thing named Work.
It really is a four-letter word: Work. It's been using me up and keeping me from writing, from Protag, from clumsy bloggin', from my better nature and sweet dreams, from family, friends, wine, women, and song. Y'know, I might say "Thanks, I've had enough. Keep your w**k." Can't say when. Some day. I might.
Won't have to, of course, if that golden someday ever comes that w**kers of the world have long dreamed of. The Future so bright...and flying cars...there's a scary vision.
Of course, there's also the thought that connects with the scary vision. Someone's got to maintain those flying cars; or maintain the robots that'll keep them flying. So I suppose there will always be someone, some when, staring up and feeling his existence reduced to a four-letter word. Depressing.
Meanwhile, I'll just have my tea now. Return to outlining, and notes. And whatever might come. And not think about tomorrow morning.
