THE DAILY GRIND

Well, I believe its official. I am back in the daily grind.


HOW WAS YALLS WEEK? Here is a typical one—this from a week or so ago--

Monday- Get up to the sound of my cell phone alarm ringing the tune “Hallelujah”—at 0445 hrs on Monday it is annoying as anything one would imagine—everything is annoying at 0445 hrs. Drag my ass to work, make a lame attempt at physical exercise (imagine trying to learn to walk and that’s me) then make it to the coffee pot. The only thing that is going to sustain me on this day is the little black beans picked by the guy with the donkey and the sombrero, Exxon Valdez.

You make it until lunch, then prepare for possibly the highlight of your day—a PBJ on Colonial Old Fashioned white bread---two bites into this and you actually feel like you’re going to, as they said on Mary Tyler Moores TV show—make it after all.
8 hrs, 45 emails, two meetings, and 4 trips to the little boys room, you are headed home.

One down, four to go.

Tuesday- After playing it safe and going to bed about 9 pm, you awaken to Hallelujah once again, and make a mental note to change the alarm to something that won’t startle you as bad. You silently wonder if the Abbott and Costello TV theme show is available from Verizon. Quick shower, and out the door. You notice the fuel hand is just below half a tank, which means you will have to stop right down the street from the office and buy some Kroger gas—barely affordable, but with the Kroger plus customer card, you are entitled to the special privilege of receiving a discount of 3 cents per gallon. At this rate I will be selling plasma and cashing in the first borns’ life insurance policy. I almost dance around the car because the gas prices are less than two dollars a gallon---Rejoice! (This is where my alarm would come in handy!)

Arrive at the office awake and ready to seize the day, or as they say in Latin, “Carpe Tunnel”. Have the wind sucked from your lungs from meetings all day. Go home, hope the wife isn’t cooking the meat loaf, and lose yourself in the newspaper. Tomorrow will be a better day.

Wednesday- Hump day. (My hump my hump my humps)
They should call Wednesday “Kick me in the groin until I pour two dollar a gallon gas on myself and strike a match” day.

Combine Monday and Tuesday, throw in some terribly weak coffee complete with the grounds (the paper filter had a blowout), a headache, a pre- menstrual teenager, and you have the recipe for a perfect day.

This day has no redeeming qualities—did I mention that it rained all day? Nothing left to do but get snarled in traffic on the commute home.

The green mile---all 80 of them. Its not exactly hell but you can see it from here.
I will laugh about it one day---when I am in the nursing home and they start passing out green apples… If only I can be served a hearty meal of liver and rutabagas …..then and only then will the day be complete.

Thursday- for some unexplained reason, things looking up— the traffic on the ride in was minimal, I get to catch up on some work in the office, no meetings, and I snuck in some Fried Rice in addition to the PBJ---weather has improved, and I get a decent ride home and as I open the car door I can smell supper cooking—parmesan encrusted chicken. It makes me hunch. A long day just the same, so lapse into a parmesan encrusted coma at about 830 pm and go to bed. If you go to bed at 830 pm you will get up to go to the bathroom at 1130 pm. Make mental note to read up on prostate health. Decide later it may have been the 5 glasses of tea I had with supper.

Friday-woke up a few minutes before the alarm, and offered my “services” to Wifey, who promptly told me “You’re Impossible”----well, you can’t blame a boy for trying. Had it not been for my persistence she wouldn’t be lying there for me to harass anyhow..what with the snoring and all, I didn’t think she was busy at the moment.

Get to work, and the coffee is already made. Cha-Ching! Bonus!

No meetings, get all the hot things off my desk and computer screen, and out to lunch for a Chicken Panini sandwich—it also makes me hunch—the weather is absolutely awesome, blue skies and puffy white clouds, a frigid 85 degrees---today is too easy!
Before you know it, I am southbound on I-75…normal Friday traffic is an absolute debacle, but the traffic gods have intervened on this day---the traffic is all in my rear view mirror—my windows are rolled down, I am doing 80 miles an hour and Waylon is blasting thru my speakers asking me If I’m ready for the country---I am 17 years old with the old mans car and a crisp 20 dollar bill in my pocket…….in an instant the last four days and an annoying morning alarm melt away— Euphoria takes over and the anticipation of the weekend and my Sunday ritual with the PARADE magazine await... All that minutia of the week is nothing. I am HOME, in the U.S. of “By God” Georgia. Not in Iraq. I am in the sweet by and by enjoying our way of life, As Allah intended.
And it suits me to a T.
A Large, Sweet one.

LIFE, dear hearts, is good. It is grand. It is large grande café machiatto frappucino good.