School's out. I'm not teaching this summer.
Wife seems to like me this week. Kid is okay. Animals okay.
But I must be baffled. It's my schtick, after all.
I guess, how did I end up a college proffie? There are so many other things to be, and I certainly did a wide variety of jobs as a young man. I was good at a lot of things.
I remember being great at selling telephone book space, you know, yellow pages, back when people still used them. I had a laminated card of prices. I knocked on business doors. People seemed to like me. They often wrote me checks write there. I'd fill out the details of the ad. Put the check in my briefcase, go to the next shop.
One time a nice guy at a deli bought some space and gave me a free lunch. What?
Of course other times I got shooed away at the door, like I had a vacuum cleaner trailing behind me. I never begrudged them.
What would I have become if I kept doing that? How different would my daily concerns be? Would I have different friends? Of course. I'd keep different hours. I'd be tired in different ways.
I can't even imagine it.