Let Me Clear My Throat...

Whoa...

Start the whirlwind.

Monday...

16 hour day, throat hurts so bad I can't swallow. Glands all swollen to fuck so that I can't even turn my head. Coughing up god knows what. Getting ready to make the biggest mistakes of my life. Get out of work at 9, find out they've cancelled Black Donnelys, have to be back at work before 6. Sleep? Hell no. Stay out all night. None of your damn business where I was or what I was doing.

Tuesday...

Inspection. Old Man's back. Still sick. 16 hours. Home. Sleep? Hell no. Seriously improving at Tiger Woods Golf.

Wednesday...

Inspection. Old Man is oddly not pissed. 10 hours. (YEAH!) Home. Sleep? Finally. Passed out by ten. Up at 3:20. Vonnegut's dead. Shit.

Thursday...

I-N-S-P-E-C-T-I-O-N. Raining like whoa. Accountant says we're in trouble because we're making so much money. Friggin' Great. Old Man talks to wife on phone about sitting home watching American Idol. Mispronounces Sanjaya four times. Pretends he can't remember his name the fifth time. 14 hours. Home. Sleep? Not so much.

Friday...(into Saturday)

Friday the 13th. Go in to work late. Bust my ass on paperwork. Ready to kill the kid. Jere wants to play cards. I agree. Out of work by 9. Clean clean clean. Whole house smells like bleach. Lots of Iced Tea and Yoo-Hoo. Cards. Consecutive flushes put me up big. Don't win a hand for nearly three hours. Low man at table. Enough to match the blind one more hand. 8-2 off suit. The dreaded Vilaboy hand. Fuck it. All in. Take the pot with a pair of 2's. Son of a bitch it's go time. Still the low man. Run three straight guys. Win for the night. Up 80 on the game. Strip club at 2 A.M. Jesus books. Favorite dancer. Presidential Room? In then and out. Vip Room? In then out. Back in the Vip finally. In for way too long. Dancer tells me to wait on the way out. Slips me a piece of paper as she walks past. Her phone number. What the fuck just happened? Pick up Jere to take him to car dealer ship in Wayne. Cars blocked in by three other cars. Going nowhere. "When did they tell you to pick it up?" "They didn't." "When did you tell them you were coming?" "I didn't." "Fucking great." Driving to Vernon at 4 A.M. Drop Jere off at 4:50, secretly wish that he gets raped by a bear with AIDS. Back at the office by 5:30. Daze all morning. Drivers fighting. Favorite sixteen year old drunk stories. Next door makes small talk, borrows $600. Faux Grandma in to chat. Climbing through emergency exits, chinese food for lunch, driving the kid to East Orange even though he's a pain in my ass. It's still Saturday

GOTTA LOVE THIS LIFE