You know that infamous rant by Jim Mora, coach of the Indianapolis Colts, when some reporter asked him about making the playoffs?
In that same squeaky voice (with pretty much the same graying hair, pretty much the same sagging chin, and pretty much the same sense of frustration) imagine me saying, “Routine?! You want to talk about ‘routine’?”
What’s up with this 2 days off, 1 day on, 2 days off, 2 days on, 2 days off, 1 day on, 2 days off, 2 days on, 2 days off shit?
Granted, it’s better than not having any of those extra days off in there. But when you put that on top of the year and the decade changing, I’m having a tough time remembering what day of the week it is, let alone which month or year.
It’s like being on one of those bull riding machine that’s set up for almost 100% chaotic movement, no predictability, no pattern, nothing to do but hold on for dear life.
At least next week will have five work days in a row, which means only one “Monday.” (My god, has it come to this, that I’m grateful for five work days in a row?)
We Love The Stars Too Fondly 