decompression

I took a couple days off from work at the end of this week to make a four-day weekend I could use to catch up on lost sleep, read, drink a few beers, and just generally decompress from work and the rest of the world. Best idea I’ve had in a long time.

So far, I’ve achieved about fifty percent success: I’ve been able to pretty much leave work completely behind; haven’t thought about it since I left the building Wednesday night, except when my work cell phone went *ping* on Thursday morning. I thought about work for about a tenth of a second, or however long it takes to process the thought: “Huh. Forgot to turn that off.” And then I turned it off. Done. Since then, I haven’t thought about work until I typed this paragraph. And now I’m done again.

The world, on the other hand, doesn’t just go away, and I’ve been hard pressed to ignore it because WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH ALL THESE PERVERTS? Oh hang on, I’m a pervert, let me rephrase that: WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH ALL THE SEXUAL ABUSE AND SEXUAL HARASSMENT? Doesn’t roll off the tongue as easily, but I like to be precise and, so long as they know how to control themselves, perverts can live among us in peace and harmony. All men are perverts, really; it’s just that some of us are better at keeping our pants zipped and our hands off other people, especially when they’re underage or unconscious. IT’S NOT THAT TOUGH TO KEEP YOUR WEENIE IN YOUR PANTS, GUYS! You take it out only when you have to go to the bathroom, or when someone else asks you. THAT’S IT! THAT’S THE SECRET TO STAYING OUT OF THE HEADLINES!

It would be great to go just one day this week without learning that yet another comic or movie star or politician has moved from the “admirable” to the “loathsome” column, not that Roy Moore was ever “admirable.” Sounds like that boy was always a skeeve.