Now every day is a vacation day. Good.

I remember like it was yesterday:

One day last April, I walked into Tarzjay with little direction (just made up that spelling, because quite frankly I have no idea how else you would spell it, other than ‘Target’. Stfu.). (Great, now I’ve gone off storyline and the entire flow of this is wrong. I need to start over. *Ahem*)

I remember like it was yesterday:

One day last April, I walked into Tarzjay with little direction, and walked out with freedom.

Freedom from The Man. Freedom from responsibility. Freedom from everything life sucks at.

Dear, friends - I walked out with the v-neck undershirt, and I’ve never felt better.

Long gone are the days of crew-neck undershirts while at work. Long gone are the wantings to rip off my shirt Hulk-style and smash it to bits while screaming loudly.

Long gone is the shackle around my neck.

Hooray, I say. Hooray – hooray – hooray.

I am free… I am free… I am free.

(Now work is more like a non-work day, except that I still have to go into the office, but still do similar things to when it’s a non-work day, per usual. Good.)

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