My Day Off

This is the day off I’ve been waiting for: six days of working in a grocery store for the Labour Day weekend and now it’s over.  Last night I cheered as they showed the exodus back to the city on the news. Yay!  Good riddance!

Instead of constant traffic on my road there is just the occasional car.

What happens to people on the Labour Day weekend? It’s a crazed frenzy as if the world is coming to an end so we better have a great time, lots of fun and the best food.  We want everything and we want it now!

“You don’t have any English Muffins left? But I want English Muffins!”

“What, you’re all out of Snickers Explosions? I have to choose from the other 10 cakes you have? Can you make one up?”

The best part is when they mindlessly tell us to have a good weekend. Yeah, we’re here.

But today they are all back to their grinds and I’m off.  I am tapped out. This much work at 61 years old is too much……  I’m exhausted but also proud of myself for doing it.

I hope to make enough for my house insurance. I should say ‘yay’ but I wish I made enough for disposable income.  (I love that term “disposable income” -when you have so much money you have to think up new garbage to buy.) I have to keep every penny I can from the next two cheques and hope I have enough to pay it.

 It’s 9:00 a.m. and I already have on Turner Classic Movies. Loretta Young is a mail order bride to Alan Ladd in the American Frontier. Robert Mitchum has come along; a handsome wandering minstrel.  Things are heating up. 

I’m going to walk really slow, not talk at all, eat a lot and watch TV.  I am taking this day off, off. Not like; have a day off and do housework. I mean this;

not doing shit


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