2002-04-24 - 6:48 p.m.

April finds this diary strangely un-updated. I don't know, this month has been really short. There's what, like a week left? Pathetic. So it's almost 7pm and I'm at work and I'm updating my fucking diary. You wanna know why? Because I ain't goin' nowhere any time soon, Jack.

Speaking of Jack, I'd love a bourbon and ginger ale right about now. Thanks. On my way home from Vegas I decided I was a business-travelin' asshole and as such was entitled to some liquor of the brown variety. The Jack & Ginger was four bucks. I passed a Lincoln down the row, and the flight attendant was about to pass back a dollar. I waved it off with a casual dash of brio, but she looked at me like I'd just taken a leak on her shoes. Well excuse me, sister. I guess they're trying to get away from that "waitress in the sky" moniker that Westerberg gave them.

Yeah, so, any day I take off from work means I'm paying for it in the after hours on the days surrounding said off-day. For instance, my surgery day last Wednesday: I didn't leave until 8pm on Tuesday, probably 7pm on Thursday. My trip to Detroit, which requires a vacation day on Friday: Oh, you know, leaving round about 8pm every night except Monday this week (that's tutoring night).

And I'm still not caught up from being in Vegas (on business, mind you) a couple weeks ago.

Every time I get depressed about how much work I've got left to do before we close at the end of every month, I just think to myself: What's the worst that could happen? Something happens that makes it so that I don't have to do this job any more? Not terrible at all in the grand schematics.

Talked to Joe from work today. He calls mainly on Fridays, though sometimes on "hump" day to mix things up a bit. Life really is like a box of chocolates.