I'm not a big fan of people. I think I've said that before. If not I should have, it bears repeating, in fact, needs repeating since people rarely listen.
Just got a call from the ex inquiring as to my availability for the day and thankfully, since I'm kinda over the whole lot of them today, (they don't read my blog) I'm a bit glad. Breakfast, lounging, Machete later this afternoon...blah blah blah. No thanks.
First I have things to do, I rode this morning and after I'm through here I'm making some pots, and then I have to be at the grocery for a couple of hours this afternoon to help out. Second, all these things will involve more people, and after over 40 collective years, one would think they would know better than to ask me along. See, bears repeating.
But this morning we're celebrating the American worker. Those folks who labor fruitlessly day in day out for the good of all us narcissistic Americans. (ok they do it for a paycheck so they can buy stuff) But many of them are lovely and though I don't care to interact with them I can appreciate the incredible views they often bestow:
Here's to you American Labor.
And so it goes:
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