Tuesday, February 20, 2018

The Hum

There was no hooky yesterday.  When I checked my calendar, I saw a meeting mid-morning, so I went to work.  I have "events" all week long, so there will be no hooky for awhile.  I don't take off enough and have accumulated so much vacation time that it has to be transferred to sick leave according to the Rules of the Factory.  They have a handbook of such things it seems.  I've never read it, but I am sent emails from HR that informs me of its existence and gravity.  I seriously need some time off.  

Q says he has a seven week sabbatical starting this week.  Jesus, I don't know how he does it.  It seems all he does it take vacations and whine about not having any time off.  There is something screwy there.  But seven weeks off!  Really?  I don't know if I would ever be able to return to work.  

I'd like to give it a shot, though.  

Are you anything like me, kids?  Do you love paying hundreds of dollars a month for premium television and then not watching it?  I haven't had the television on since I tried watching the Olympics.  I feel better about things.  I have become certain that someone puts secret messages in the audio portions of all t.v. transmissions.  It is like the Windsor Hum (link).  It is there for sure, and it is destroying us, but nobody can seem to find its source.  One way to avoid it is to leave the television off.  That and keep paying for all those premium channels.  That's fun.  

I am changing my exercise routine, and that means some early morning aerobic exercise that will make early morning posting difficult.  I want to look like these exercise girls, happy and fit.  I want to wear spandex yoga pants and tight shirts and walk around with  a bottle of water rather than a muffin.  I remember that.  It is a better life.  

To wit. . . I must away.  

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