I wake up Saturday morning. It doesn’t even matter what time.
I have a DAY OFF.
I like to work and a day off is a burden for me to figure out what to do with my day. I’ve worked 9 to 5 my whole life. Suit and tie. It’s brutal. But you become so conditioned to that you basically shut down on the weekends. But if you stay busy all of the time, you can compartmentalize your social life into when you’re free.
It works for me because I love being busy. I think this goes back to my anxiety and depression. If you stay busy and are needed you won’t think about your fear or sadness.
You wake up and are needed. There’s a place for you where they’re all counting on you, and you’re good at it. You’re the best. You have somewhere where you’re needed and you’re the person they love.
If you’re off you’re alone in your apartment thinking about all of the things you’re worrying about of how your ex-wife is trying to destroy you. If you work and stay busy you’re earning and know that your daughter is safe, and you’ll be able to pay your bills.
I never want to stop working. I guess when my dad retired at 62 that’s what men did.
I can’t imagine that. Turning off all daily activity when you’re in full health, and do fuck all.
No. I want to die like Picasso. Dead at 92 working on a sculpture.
Fucking day off. I hate being off. I love to be doing something. (More to come!)
I haven’t been off in a month and a half but the beauty of this is, it’s a mirror of what it’s like to be OFF.
Let me show you what happens when I’m off for only one day.
I regain consciousness at 10:30 Saturday morning.
I stay there and drink some water and try to stay hunkered down in my bed. (I’m up everyday and just trying to catch some ZZZ’s) I fall back asleep and dream that I’m a camp counselor at a nudist camp. Everybody was fat, totally weird, but that happened. (No idea why)
I decided since I had a day off for the first time in a month, I should take me dry cleaning to Luvin’ Care in Rittenhouse.
I do that and May is always looking broken as usual. (No idea why)
I’m doing all of the boring things I used to do five years ago when Michelle was gone. I don’t like this feeling.
Even when we were broken up, we always hung out every other weekend when I didn’t have my daughter.
When I’m not working, I’m idle. The devil’s hands are present. I know him very well but I’m good at deflecting him now.
I’m not driven by vice or desire, I just want to get a slice and go home. This relieves me.
After breakfast I text Eileen and ask her if she needs anything,
She would like a snack.
I’m in the area and praying for day drinking with Cassie
I decide to go to Gran Caffe L’ Aquila and order a little cup of Hazenut Gelatto.
I appear at the salon and Eileen is elated.
Her boyfriend is pissed at everything I’m doing, but that’s just young boy nonsense. Eileen is a niece/daughter to me and I’m delighted that she and Amelia have been killing it this season at our salon.
It’s so hard to find good staff in this industry and I’ve found the Rosetta stone of employees. I’ve been in corporate america my whole life, and Amelia and Eileen are two of the best I’ve ever witnessed, and would hire them again in anything I ever do. They are that good.
I text Cassie, and get zero response. This is a common response in the dating arena.
It’s okay. I don’t really care. I texted her for a drink like we discussed, and it’s fine if I never hear back from her.
“If you have no expectations, you’ll never be disappointed.”
Baby is shoveling her gelato, and I have nothing to do. I hate being off.
My client Nick comes in and says he’ll be at Bonner’s Bar at 3pm.
I figure I’ll go there and hang and then go home and edit my blog.
I get a text from Cassie. She wants to hang and have a drink.
Rock and Roll!
“I’m at Bonner’s… ”
“I’ll see you soon!”
I guess it’s on with the hot stewardess.
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