It Was a Good Day

First things first: I want to thank Kari for not forgetting about our blogs and for encouraging a return to form.

Secondly, no more hiding behind new blog titles. I'm going back to Sublimely Mundane, so yeah, I'm going to need my title back. Sorry, new Sublimely Mundane. But in all fairness, I was here first (and it didn't look like you've been doing a lot of blogging, anyway).

Third, to the reason I changed the name in the first place--and you know who you are--a little message. A .gif is worth a thousand words:

Now, why don't you go fuck yourselves?

Now that I've gotten that out of the way...

...so I took a mental-health day Friday, and I do mean mental health. I've worked every holiday this year (2011) and have been on-call more often than any of my coworkers.

I've got a week of vacation, about that much in holiday days (!) and a sick day I need to spend before December 31. It feels unnatural to me. My father was a workaholic, too, and maybe, that's one of the reasons he was dead of a stroke by 55.

It's a hard thing to admit to myself, but I want to make sure that doesn't happen to me, but so far, it's not looking good.

I say to you even as I remind myself to stop and smell the roses. Easy to say, hard to do. Sometimes, I'm not even sure what it means anymore. Stephen King summed it up best in one of his books a few years ago. I think it was Insomnia: "Every thing I do I rush through so I can do something else."

I grabbed a coffee with a chocolate donut at noon--marvelous! I browsed a little, locally-owned cookware store, looking for nothing in particular--amazing! I did a little window shopping for Christmas gifts at the local department store--very nice!

That night, I went home and watched two episodes of Luther on Netflix (and am convinced Idris Elba is one of the best actors of his generation). I also nodded off to Limitless (pretty terrible), found my copy of Batman Begins and watched the first hour of that.

One of the best parts, though, was having Kari write me and ask me about the blog. I'm glad she did. So this post is dedicated to her. And, yeah, I know. To paraphrase Kari who was paraphrasing someone else-a comedian, I think?--it's hard to believe that once upon a time, Ice Cube was the baddest motherf*cker on the planet.