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Bunglin' Bundy

Bunglin' Bundy
Hail the King of Mediocrity!

Saturday, June 23, 2012

What Happened To Lazy Saturday?

Saturday. What a joyous day. It used to be. Back in the days when I wasn't overloaded with responsibilities. But I remember those days...staying in bed way past the usual wake up call...a leisurely block of quality time with coffee and a bagel...a good (real) book to spend the morning with...plans with friends...shopping, lunching, yakking, wool gathering, dressing for the evening's festivities...So nostalgic.

Today, I'm lucky to get a cup of coffee and some computer time before everyone who depends on me (2 humans and a poodle) start stirring or whining or demanding my time. I long for the day that Saturday comes and I can't find a thing to do. That day will come when I pack my toothbrush and my favorite bra and sneak away in the wee hours of the morning. Where will I go? Nowhere. What will I do? Nothing. With whom will I do it? NO ONE!!!

Oh, how Divine does that sound? Very.

Alas, this fantasy remains a fantasy. But one that keeps me going.

I worked for a V.P. once who had a panoramic view of a Hawaiian island hanging on the wall behind his desk. It kept him working towards the day he would retire there.

I have no visual aid for my fantasy day. Really, what would represent divine nothingness? It's too zen a concept to capture with a physical image. So...when I have time to take a breather I close my eyes and envision...nothing. nowhere. no one.

Ommmmmmmmmmmmmm.



Here is my visual aid for nothingness. I shall hang it on the wall in my office and dream about it and the day I achieve it.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Getting Up?


No one in the family who raised me ever excelled at anything. It wasn't expected. It wasn't necessary. As long as everyone hung their coats in the closet, took their dirty cups and plates out of the livingroom and didn't hide fudgesicles in their dirty clothes hamper (which I only did ONCE, for pete's sake) all was well.

"Excelled" in the real world probably meant that higher standards were met - standards higher than my dad conversing in Italian with Sally Starr at the station where he pumped gas. Standards that surpassed Aunt Annie's macaroni salad or Aunt Venzi's whipped butter on toast (although, at the time, NOTHING surpassed what the Italian Aunties put on their tables).

As long as there was love, and there was lots of love (it was called FOOD), I was a happy kid. So who needed to excel?

Since the days of youth and bliss (as in ignorance is) I have had many chances to get up off my ass and excel. But why? and how? Like many other Americans, I have found that nice comfy dent my butt has made on the couch so welcoming, so hypnotic and has that aura of "where I belong" that I feel strange not easing down into it and basking in the glow of vegging out for the evening. Every evening.

So if ever I am to excel it will have to be sometime between leaving for work in the morning and arriving to the total lack of enthusiasm from my coworkers at my arrival. Or it will have to happen during the 9 mile, 20 minute drive back to my home.

Unless...
I could manage to keep my butt off of the business end of the couch for a few minute longer each night.

In the spirit of true mediocrity, this will be my goal:

I will keep all of my body parts upright 10 minutes longer each night.

And perhaps my next goal will be to actually DO something while I'm in the position.

Baby steps DO eventually get the baby all the way across the room!