Tuesday Decompression

Tuesday Decompression

Even though it's technically Wednesday, and has been for 52 minutes in this time zone....

Woken early, after just 3 hours sleep, by another manager, who managed to leave his keys inside the store, thus making it impossible to unlock it from the outside.

Could not tumble back into slumber--instead, my mind kept replaying a conversation with my meat manager Neil, about his chemical past. The conversation kept playing on a continual loop, until I said "I need to get up, and write something, and stop thinking about the time Neil fell down into a gully while high."

And write something I did. Then, I went back and looked at something I wrote a few months ago. It's good, if I say so myself. And for some reason, I've got a desire to get a rejection letter from Oxford American. So I think I'll fix it up and send it to them by the end of the week.

Bought biscuits for myself, my Dad and my Aunt Annette, who was visiting from someplace called Virginia. Dad asked what I was getting him for mother's day. I told him that he'd be getting exactly the same thing I got him last year for Mother's Day.

Flowers.

Worked a bunch. Trying to get ready for inventory. It's a blast and a half. If you were anywhere near the lower east corner of Tennessee, and you heard a giant "Woo Hoo!" somewhere in the neighborhood of 8 o'clock tonight, that was me. I was overcome with joy, especially after a guy called me a prick for not giving him baby formula.

The baby will starve, he said. Then he bought cigarettes.

I loves me some people.

Weekend off. No baseball locally. Atlanta's in town. Might be able to convince somebody to go. Might find something else interesting to do.

Perhaps I will learn the mambo.

And become Mambo Jones.

Once and for all.

And they thought I was signing that in the high school yearbooks just to be weird.