I'm looking out the sliding patio door as a fresh cup of coffee brews in my Keurig. The cushions on the patio furniture are soaked from the heavy overnight thunderstorm. The sky remains shrouded in various shades of gray.
I hear the coffee maker sputter and spit the last of the coffee into my insulated Yeti as I watch the tree tops buck and sway in the wind. It's going to rain some more.
I sniffle a yawn. For the fifth day in a row I'm up by four. I'm tired. Afternoons have been tough as the numbers on spreadsheets blur and letters on emails dance before my drooping eyelids. I don't know what is going on. Life, I suppose.
I slap the lid on my coffee and trudge up the stairs to my office. The creak of the stairs is the only sound in the house. The wife's gentle snores are too faint to hear through the closed bedroom door.
I plop into my recliner and stare at my desk with the two big computer monitors a few feet away. It is almost time to log on. Sigh. I've been working since I was thirteen. Fifty-one years, no wonder I lack the enthusiasm I once had. I like my job. I'm good at it. Somedays it's hard to get going, especially when I'm tired before I start.
So it goes. No one came here to read my complaints. That said, I have no idea why you thirteen stalwarts come here at all.
Have a great Friday.
