I was late again this morning. I know. Shocker. That has nothing to do with anything. I’m just confessing.

I walked to the car with my wide open coffee cup and it was sprinkling right down into it. I drank the coffee anyway. I like a little rainwater in my drink. It reminds me that, at heart, I’m a wild animal. I would drink dirty water for survival and roar with bestial pride.

Due to the gray sky, light rain thing, I thought about going fishing. When I was a kid, it was always more enjoyable to fish in drizzle and cloud-covered skies than in the beating down sun. I have light hair, light eyes, and light skin. Translation: I burn like a mother fucker. This is why I despise the sunlight and have made plans to be sired into the nocturnal lifestyle of vampires. Stay tuned.

So, I had this intense desire to go fishing, and here’s a secret. I hate fishing. With a passion. Even when I was a kid and I went with my dad and a few other men in my life, I hated it, I did, but I liked hanging with my select group of people with testosterone, and sometimes testosterone forces you to fish.

Despite this aversion to fishing, I totally wanted to go this morning. I am two hours from a great lake. I could have hopped in the car and been floating on a boat in the middle of Lake Erie, hating fishing, by mid-morning. And I thought about it.

Why?

Because I would rather be hating fishing all day than hating getting my soul sucked out by corporate America.

The end.

Now where are those fuckin’ vampires?