Summer Hours Or Lies I Tell Myself

A little before three the boss stopped by my cube to say that the word has finally come down: we’re on summer hours.
This pretty much only means that we get to leave at three on Fridays. Considering that I normally leave at four, this doesn’t mean all that much to me, but I’ll take what I can get.
(I may also start going in later on Fridays in order to enjoy the full advantage that the rest of my co-workers gain.)
Of course, there are trade-offs for everything; my commute home found me in the midst of much more traffic than I would be in had I left at four, as every other employer has, apparently, also initiated summer hours.
What did I do with what little extra time I ultimately gained, you ask?
Well, as I was down to about an eighth of a tank, I stopped to get gas, though that was after stopping at an ATM to get some cash, as my wallet was also coasting on fumes.
Then I stopped at the comic shop to pick up this week’s books. I’d headed out that way on Wednesday to pick them up, before deciding that I wanted to get something to eat and turning in the opposite direction of the comic shop and picking up Scott to have blunch at IHOP with Scott. On the way to the comic shop after that I remembered that new books wouldn’t be out until Thursday due to the holiday. Thursday I couldn’t stop there, as I needed to get home to have my fancy blinds installed. Thus today became the appointed day.
Upon arriving home I used the extra time to sit around and do not much of anything, before eating a bunch of mini-Snickers and watching last night’s episodes of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report and eventually finishing off the quarter of a watermelon that I’d bought the other day.
The stress of traveling had an impact on my already weaker than usual immune system, so the effects of being surrounded by people – and more specifically children – and being jammed into an enclosed space with them for an extended period of time, led me to develop a cold, so, with TV watching out of the way, I opted to take a nap.
I got up from that, feeling worse than I had, watched The Simpsons, and then tried to convince myself that no, my life is not, in fact, sad and pathetic just because of how I spend my Friday evenings. “You have nobly chosen,” I told myself, “to live a quiet life of asceticism and contemplation, rejecting the hurly-burly of the modern world and choosing to keep your thoughts as your company.”
Failing to convince myself of that, I cooked a frozen pizza and sat down to watch last night’s episode of Reno 911! on my DVR.
And now, I’m writing this entry.
I had intended to finally get around to writing about my time in Michigan – complete with the handful of pictures I took; only a handful because I am, as I’ve often mentioned, a lousy tourist – but I also want to take some time to watch some of the movies that have been eating up the ever-dwindling space on my DVR for some time now, so I guess you’ll just have to wait.