I wonder if I could get a doctor’s prescription for a tan?
I couldn’t possibly be that shallow, could I? I couldn’t possibly, with the economy the way it is, be concerned about getting a tan, could I?
I wouldn’t bet against it.
I miss my tan. Remember being tan, all brown and healthy-looking? Remember believing that getting a tan made you look healthy? Laying on the beach with a bottle of baby oil for your skin and a lemon for your hair…
I want it back. Today. I want to lay on the beach right now. I want hear someone’s tinny AM/FM radio coming from a blanket somewhere down the sand a bit. I want to lay on a big towel with no concerns other than what I’m wearing tonight and who will be there, once I get to wherever I’m going.
I want to hear no further from the following words: deadline, benchmarking, database,
I do not want to schedule the following items: a teeth-cleaning, tax preparation, a mammogram, or a cat’s-ass shaving.
I want to lie on my belly, propped up on my elbows, reading a book that is neither instructional nor enlightening. I want to be amused. I want it to be sanctioned by my workplace.
Wait a minute. A word has just sprung to mind: vacation. We used to call it a vacation, didn’t we?
I like the sound of that, and I’m gonna do it.
I’ll be, as they say in corporate America, “out of pocket” for the next few days, returning on the 19th. I’m very sorry to say that there will be no tanning, no sun, and no beach involved; but I did find a place with a fireplace and a hot tub, which should help me turn from my fantasy-brown to reality-red, anyway.
Not sure if I’ll be able to comment while away from home, but I know I’ll be able to post.
Be good, now, until I get back.
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