The Beatles.
Spring has sprung, softball has begun, and work is now foreign to me.
Softball. Dirt, chalk, grass, bats; bliss. Only, because of this perfect season, I had to force myself to only work weekends. Yes I do complain about working more than is considered healthy, but it seems so tedious and obsolete. I stand and fold a table that, the second I leave it for another, will become just as messed, if not worse than before. It's annoying. (Tip:fold something you just looked at at a clothing store, or better yet, gently pull out the one labeled the size you desire. I see people doing this and I have to refrain from hugging them to death. They're a godsend. Try it sometime.) But even though I complain I truly do love where I work. The people there make it worth it and more. My Grinch, my ray of sunshine, and everyone in between. I miss you all immensely.
I was only scheduled to work once this week. Yesterday. But they were slow so I was told not to come in. Excited? Absolutely. Disappointed? Indeed. I miss the kids that make me smile no matter what mood I'm in. And since people watching is such a strong habit of mine, working where it's my job to observe, well, it's heaven in a way.
Softball, you bring pure joy to my life. But I will miss my income and dear friends.
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