You're To Blame
So besides being a little down today - some sort of Monday blues thing - and not really being all that enthralled about how my life turned out (is turning out?), I'm avoiding doing much work at all costs.
Why? Mainly because no one here is doing any. I mean, it's nuts. They've been chatting up there for a half hour - maybe more if it's Linda. Still, that annoys me. I'm back here working like a sucker. Bleh. Just remember the money, Kern. The money. It's good money. Money money money.
I'm going to shallow-water fitness with Dhei on thursday night. No, I'm not kidding. I'll have to find some sort of industrial-capacity razor to shave my legs. What? It's Winter! In Canada! I need the extra insulation of shaggy leg hair. 45 minutes, I thought, wasn't very long. And then I realized that I am so out of shape that 45 minutes might very well kill me (or, at the least, make friday at work a very painful ordeal).
Why? Mainly because no one here is doing any. I mean, it's nuts. They've been chatting up there for a half hour - maybe more if it's Linda. Still, that annoys me. I'm back here working like a sucker. Bleh. Just remember the money, Kern. The money. It's good money. Money money money.
I'm going to shallow-water fitness with Dhei on thursday night. No, I'm not kidding. I'll have to find some sort of industrial-capacity razor to shave my legs. What? It's Winter! In Canada! I need the extra insulation of shaggy leg hair. 45 minutes, I thought, wasn't very long. And then I realized that I am so out of shape that 45 minutes might very well kill me (or, at the least, make friday at work a very painful ordeal).