Did I tell you that Sam got a job, this week. He starts Tuesday, after Queen's Birthday. We'll both be walking out the front door together, come Tuesday, briefcases in hand, at the ready.
At the gate. "After you."
"After you."
I've been a bad influence on him though. The sweet boy that I met, who was happy to head off to work and put in a full day, now doesn't want to go anywhere the Salt Mines.
"It is a waste of time, I want to retire."
Oops. (Who does that sound like?)
It was supposed to work the other way. He was supposed to make me sweeter.
It reminds me of the Friends episode with the world's happiest dog. It wasn't supposed to be like that.
Neither of us want to work. Although, working one day a week like I have been these last few weeks, I guess, I have little to complain about.
My money seems to be holding out. I'm covering my expenses and my bank balance isn't going backwards anymore, so shrug. I'm guessing static isn't exactly the benchmark to aim for though.
Maybe we should move to the country and breed goats.
No comments:
Post a Comment