I only took a half an hour lunch. I have no clue why. I had nowhere to go today, so I went to the break room and ate my turkey and cheese sandwich, bowl of soup, and my pear. I finished my lunch, finished the book I was reading, realized I still had a half an hour left, shrugged, and went back to work. Now I regret it because it just makes the work day a half an hour longer.
One of these days I want to work for one of those companies where you record your hours, and if you took half hour lunches all week, then by golly on friday you only have to work half a day. Instead I am chained here.
Ah well, It’s a living.
After a hectic day yesterday I popped into the pub for a beer. I keep forgetting that Tuesday nights are a bad night to go because they are either playing trivia or they are having their special poker night. They haul out some big homemade poker table and everyone gets into it. I am not a card player, myself. It simply does not excite me. So I finished my beer and moseyed on home, the cares of the workday flushed away by a frothy mug.
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Got home, looked at the mound of laundry that needed my attention. I then used a special Vulcan mind trick to make it seem as if the laundry did not exist. Only a few people in the world have brains powerful enough to perform this Vulcan mind trick. I am one of them. Almost by magic I suddenly no longer cared about laundry.
Wandered outside, waved at Alan who is digging a giant hole in my back yard. I did not even see him at first, just a shovel appearing over the lip of the hole and dirt flying into the air.
Cleaned the cover to my hot tub. I had not cleaned it since the oak trees decided to dump their pollen all over the place. I need to empty out and refill my tub as well, now that most of the midges have seemed to vanish. I need to get a new cover one of these days, the one I have is ratty but functional.
This weekend I am going to find a dragon. A 100-foot-long, concrete and steel dragon that is supposed to be around Merrit Island. I have only recently heard that this monstrosity existed. It was apparently created by a ‘warlock and white witch’ bu the name of Lewis VanDerCar.
I am still trying to figure out of the dragon still exists. Some websites are saying that it had crumbled apart. Others say that there were plans to rebuild in 2005. I have no Idea, so I guess I will find out.
http://studentsoftheunusual.com/images/Dragon.jpg
2026 Update
I'm firing up the time-engine to 2006: turkey sandwiches, a shovel in the yard, and rumors of a concrete dragon.
Ah, the halcyon days of 2006, when a man could take a half-hour lunch and feel morally superior. Today, that half-hour would be a calendar block called 'Focus Time' and your phone would tattle if you sneezed during it. The soup would be photographed for the cloud before the first sip. Pub trivia still haunts the modern world, but now you can lose to strangers over Discord while poker chips render in polygons and a subscription fee nibbles your soul. And your dragon quest? Marvelous. Back then, you chased rumors through sketchy websites and a JPEG that may or may not have been a dragon. Now you would have satellite images, drone footage, and seventeen Reddit threads arguing over whether the dragon ever existed. The Vulcan mind trick for laundry remains a critical life skill, but these days it comes with an app that nags you to upgrade to Premium Lint Removal. The more things change, the more they require a monthly fee.
“2006 Ed, did you ever actually find that 100-foot concrete dragon, and if you did, was it the crumbling disappointment the internet promised? Did you stand there wondering if you should have just bought a new hot tub cover instead?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2006 Ed: So, Beelzebubba, I haven't actually gone yet—it's this weekend. But the internet's already got me worried. Half the sites say the dragon's a crumbled pile of concrete dust, and the other half swear there's a rebuild planned for 2005, which, newsflash, came and went. So I'm expecting to drive all the way to Merritt Island, hike through some mosquito swamp, and find a sad pile of rubble that looks like a dead dinosaur. And yeah, I'll probably stand there thinking, 'I could've bought a new hot tub cover with this gas money.' But that's the adventure, right? The hunt for a 100-foot dragon made by a warlock and white witch—that's way more interesting than scrubbing pollen off a ratty cover. (Though the cover is pretty damn ratty.) I'll let you know if I find scales or just disappointment. Take that, midges.
