The policy at work is that you can’t carry over more than two weeks of vacation each year, and we get three. I’d only used one week this year, so I had to unload some more days. Fortunately(?), my workload hit a lull point — that’s the life of a technical writer; you’re either swamped or bored to death. I’ve been dealing with minor projects I’d had to let slide for a while, with a side of occasional brushfire, but most of those are starting to wind out. So I put in for the time.
Between the screwy chicken house schedule (the next batch comes in on Christmas Eve, for cryin' out loud) and a profound lack of funds, we had neither the means nor the opportunity to go anywhere… so we’re staying here at FAR Manor. At least Daughter Dearest is home from college; there may be some levity on occasion. She got a B+ on one class, and has good hopes for the others. Due to the mono, she has an “incomplete” in algebra, so I’ll be helping her out with that. No biggie.
Arriving at home, the staycation started pretty much the way I expect it to go for the next couple of weeks: Mrs. Fetched gave me a minute to drop my stuff and use the bathroom, then sent me down to her mom’s for pizza. Her mom, in turn, sent me back to town with $100 to buy lotto tickets. Ohhhhhh… kayyyyyyy. If you’ve got that kind of money to waste on lotto, why not shut down the chicken houses?
Eh. I’m hoping to get some writing in during these next two weeks. Somewhere in between Christmas shopping, baking, parties, algebra, and a little wood-chopping. But I need a lot more booze than there is in the house at the moment. Then again, I get paid on Monday…