BACK TO WORK SLACKERS. Those papers won't get hidden on their own and those nuts won't staple themselves. No, wait...
Good morning, Whitenoisers. It's almost the end of the week before The Big Holidaze and soon we'll all curl up in our little nests with whatever comforts we've dug up. But until then, grunt labor, folks. Deal with it. Santa will put a pink slip in your stocking if you don't show up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for at least one more day!
Today is my last full day this week, and then tomorrow I get to show up and not give a damn for a few hours, then go to a formalish lunch at a not-fun place where I clearly don't belong and tune out the inane talk of where people are spending their holidays and the best hotels and museums or whatever and the latest old-people-enchanting art film making the rounds (to which I always respond that if nothing is going to blow up in full color and surround-sound, why should I go to see it on the big screen?) and hopefully not too much about investments and local politics and crap. All while avoiding the flailing elbows of some old fool who has absolutely no sense of personal space and always ends up sitting right next to me. But then I will be FREEEEEEEEE!!! Woo-hoo, I say. And then I'll probably completely go into a fugue state to go to the grocery and get stored up for the winter.
Anybody got major branches to hurdle before the big presumably-restful-but-often-stressful day arrives?