Funny how the day flies by when you're on your own time, and crawls when you're at work. Here is a tale out of school about my personal leave day.
7:25
Dropped The Pony off at school
7:25-7:50
Proceeded to the park to await the arrival of Mabel, my best ol' ex-teaching friend
7:50-11:10
Engaged in a wonderful rectangular-table discussion with Mabel
11:10-11:30
Rode T-Hoe to the hub post office, which had no particular smell, and inquired about a missing box of books.
11:30-12:00
Cruised out to my mom's house to deliver one National Enquirer and one Globe. Used her indoor plumbin', and briefly discussed my recent taste for dog nose.
12:00-12:30
Drove ten minutes to Burger King and waited in line for 20 to get a small order of Satisfries. Next time I'll get a medium. They are scrumptious.
12:30-12:45
Sped over to the dead-mouse-smelling post office to inquire about missing books. Still no satisfaction.
12:45-1:00
Journeyed back to the Mansion and patted Juno with my mouth closed.
1:00-1:15
Fired up my internet on Shiba the laptop in my front picture window.
1:15-1:25
Taught myself how to scan and save a document on my basement lair New Delly.
1:25-2:00
Composed an e-mail to my publisher concerning pertinent details of the Lost Treasure of the Hillbilly Madre, and attached TWO files, one of them being a Domestic Claim Form for lost registered mail.
2:00-2:20
Started this post.
2:20-4:40
Got ready to go back to Newmentia to survey the carnage from my planned day off, and to await The Pony's release from Academic Team practice.
4:40-Now
Called in a pizza to pick up on the way home, waited for a nincompoop talking on a cell phone to get out of the way of Casey's air hose so I could inflate T-Hoe's left rear...and put the finishing touches on this masterpiece.
Time to call it a day, feast on pizza, and watch Survivor.
3 comments:
And luxuriate in remembering every second.
I'll bet some of those postal workers were hiding in the back room as they thumbed through the pages in your book.
knancy,
Yes. They can't take that away from me.
****
Sioux,
NO! The CHEETO-ENCRUSTED fingers!
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