I wouldn’t bet against myself in a poker game – actually, I probably would

I don’t want to work any more this week.  Or next week.  I’m ready for vacation, and I’d like a super-long one, please.  The danger with super-long vacations, of course, is that after all that time off, I don’t want to go back to work.  The first time that happened to me was after the month I took off to move across the country when I transferred from San Diego to Norfolk.  Then, I could very easily blame my reluctance to go back to work on the fact that work = ship and deployment and separation and stress.  I don’t have that excuse anymore (something I am most certainly NOT complaining about).  Going back to work now just means not being able to stay home and be lazy, something I don’t get any sympathy for.  Which is fair.  I can hardly demand sympathy for being employed.  Nor should I.

Editing is a good thing.  I just deleted a paragraph about my hair.  My ponytail, really.  Be grateful.  It was…stupid.  Worse than inane.  Or, well, it was inane, but not in a fun way.

Because I can’t think of any other way to stop tonight, I’ll leave you with this: Kenny Loggins wouldn’t beat the baby Jesus.

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