Are we human? Or are we parents? According to Brandon Flowers of the Killers fame, we might even be dancer. But before I can even begin to entertain the notion that we may in fact be dancer, there’s the human question. See, Wife and I are out on the town for my birthday, and, for the first time in over 13 months, we have absolutely no responsibilities. That’s because my parents, NailsMom & NailsDad, generously agreed to come for an overnight to watch Kid while we are reintroduced into the wild by a professional endangered parent handler named Joseph. Joseph is a card-carrying member of two noble organizations, PITA (People for the Independence of Tired Adults), and UBER (Uber). Since liberating us from our enclosure, Joseph has gently coaxed us into his endangered parent transport, or, as he calls it, “The Shev-RO-lay Kroos.” He has assured us that there are others just like us at the endangered parent reservation, or, as he says, “Beer-GARD-en.” And he has patiently explained to us that we don’t need to pay him with cash once we have reached our destination, or, as he carefully annunciates, “Your CRED-it CARD will BE CHARG-ed.” Of course, now we are sitting on the outdoor patio of the endangered parent reservation, sans-Joseph and utterly defenseless, struggling to interpret a menu that was clearly designed for a more highly evolved species. They don’t even offer microwaved chicken fingers – everything is freshly prepared! Can we go back to the enclosure now?
I work from home, which means I have a lot of…freedom [shudder]. Horrible, limitless, malaise-inducing freedom. For instance, my current outfit consists of boxer briefs and slippers, I just ate a bunch of salsa straight from the jar, and in about five minutes I’m going to lie face-down on my bed as a reward for writing this. All kidding aside, I will say that working from home does have its perks. I mean, the break room is the size of my apartment! Also, I can eat unlimited quantities of salsa, guilt-free, which is a nice change of pace for – oh, who am I kidding?! I hate freedom! It sucks! How I long for the halcyon days of Orwellian office oppression (c-c-c-combo!). Back when procrastination was a punishable offense, and coffee was used as a chemical motivator, and I actually had to wear pants! Sweet, sweet tyranny! Where have ye gone, mine ornery horn’ed muse? Why, I can remember how I wasn’t even allowed to go on Facebook! Can you imagine?! No Facebook! Actually, that reminds me… [opens browser, checks Facebook, closes browser, reflexively opens browser, checks Facebook again, closes browser]. What was I talking about? Cats? Well, Wife and I have this cat, named Cat, and let me tell you, he is one feisty feline!