Listen. It’s Spring
Break Eve. Packing and planning. Searching google maps for all the great
places I’m going in the next 10 days.
Double checking that I have underwear and that all my devices are
charged for the flight.
Listen. I’m not going
anywhere.
I’m here, and here I’ll stay. This month, as in all other months, the
amount I owe in bills will far exceed the dollar amount on my paycheck. I’m not sure how I’ve diligently worked the
same job for 15 years and yet I can’t afford to take a fucking vacation. I should have everything I need to live in
comfort: a house, three lovely children,
health insurance, blah blah blah. I know
that taking a personal holiday is a luxury, but I’m old as fuck, and I deserve
a vacation.
Listen. I used to
work out every day, do yoga, and binge-read books. Now it’s a good day if I walk on the
treadmill for 30 minutes. I binge-watch House of Cards, because I want to not
care about anything or pay attention to anything. Netflix thinks for me, and I like it. I was probably more happy when I worked out,
but I can’t really remember.
I am going to spend Spring Break pulling my head out of my
ass and acting like the rational adult that I am. No more moping. No more whining. The new plan is to Judd Apatow my life: take all the bad, weird shit and make it into
entertaining, humorous episodes rather than some sad Lifetime docudrama.
I'm going to start working on the soundtrack right now ...
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