It ain’t packing, that’s for sure. Last night I realized I had diligently sealed up all the plates and utensils 3 days in advance of the big move. Eating was a barbaric undertaking, right out of Tom Jones.
But my real life’s wish? To be a rich eccentric. “Oh, now that I’m retired, I mainly race a stable of pigs, ridden by monkeys.”
Glad we sorted that out. I don’t think it’s *that* odd that I have no desire to hold down a job. Both my parents didn’t work when I was a child. A steady diet of seeing your formative role models doing whatever they damn well please may adversely affect one’s inclination to take orders from fools. Unfortunately, they spent my trust fund already by not working. That and some ill-advised day-trading.
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