Wednesday, February 13, 2013

thoughts on a third winter

Have you missed me?

I suppose that's irrelevant, because I've missed me.

Prepare for some serious word vomit. I'm going to do my best to just get it all out there without deleting anything but serious misspellings and Tourettes-like swears.

This is my busy season at work, and while the last two have been somewhat doable, this one has just been an unmitigated nightmare. Last night I left work early (after only 10.5 hours!), got a chicken sandwich, fries, and milkshake from Smashburger (which is delicious, but crazy expensive), ate it all while watching an episode of Hoarders and fell promptly asleep at 8:35pm. So yeah. MARDI GRAS! I know how to party.

I made a goal of giving up Diet Coke for Lent -- I've semi-participated in Lent ever since college when a Tri Delta sis encouraged everyone to tag along for Ash Wednesday. Is it disrespectful to glom on to some other religion's tradition? Maybe. But since then, Lent and I have been like ... well, I was going to say like this, but really, we've been more like casual acquaintances who were actually pretty mad at each other in 2009 when Lent meant we ate fish tacos for every lunch and dinner while on spring break.

(I was reminiscing about that Lent with Diego the other day, and he seemed surprised that the reason for all the fish tacos was because of our friend Andrea's commitment to giving up dairy and meat for Lent. "I just thought we were on a big fish taco kick that week." NO ONE IS ON A FISH TACO KICK THAT LASTS FIVE DAYS, DIEGO.)

 Anyway. I find Lent to be good opportunity to try to reflect on the bigger things in life for forty days. "Oh, you want some of that thing you vowed to refrain from? Better pause to consider the atonement of our Lord."*

In that sense, I think it's best to give up something you truly love for Lent (like me and Diet Coke -- I plan to get a domestic partnership with Diet Coke someday), because that way, you're ALWAYS a mental hop, skip, and a jump away from the Bigger Picture.

At the same time, this probably isn't the best choice I've ever made. I mean, me? During my busy season? Without the thing I love the most? Danger Will Robinson, indeed.

This morning, as I woke up again before the buttcrack of dawn, I paused to consider all the things I could be doing with my life instead of lawyerin.

I could run a doggie daycare. I imagine they make quite good money. I would need to find a lot that's properly zoned (thanks, law school!) in the downtown area, because let's be real -- only guilty professionals utilize a doggie daycare. A big yard in the 'burbs might be the "best" location for such an establishment, but no ad exec is going to drive out to BFE to deposit precious Mister Doodlepuff at an acre-sized dog daycare before their 8:00 AM conference call. Please. It would have to be downtown so they could drop him off on the fly. But assuming I could get 15-20 people who consistently would drop off their dogs, at $10 a dog per day, that's ... pretty close to worth it, once you figure in taxes and the cost of rent of my properly zoned business establishment. But maybe I'd convince people to pay in cash so I could engage in some questionable tax practices.

I suppose the only downside to federal prison would be that they wouldn't let Spence come with me. And they probably don't have unlimited Diet Coke. Which, unlike the 40 days of Lent, I figure a few years without Diet Coke would probably lose its religious impact. Every time I wanted a Diet Coke, I'd probably think, "Should have paid my taxes." Which is also a good thought, so not a total waste.

I could work at a Starbucks. Have I ever mentioned that was my if I can't hack it in law school plan? Starbucks gives every employee who works at least 35 hours a week health insurance. (Or, at least this was the case in 2006). I was going to move to Hawaii, find a crappy apartment that probably cost about $1500 a week to rent, work at Starbucks, learn to surf, and get a really great tan (with a really pale face, since I am far more scared of wrinkles than skin cancer BECAUSE I AM SHALLOW.)

Other than doggie daycare and Starbucks, I actually don't have any other backup plans, so lawyerin better work out. And speaking of, I realized today that all my suits are pretty wrinkly, and my dress shirts as well. I am either going to have to find a husband who knows how to iron, or convince Diego to do my ironing for me and never move out of my house.

So. These are my thoughts this Ash Wednesday. Please share yours.

* And if you're a smug whatever-religion person thinking, "I don't need a petty reminder of my religious commitment as I am always thinking about the Bigger Picture" -- well, jolly good for you! I hope you get canonized soon.


  1. I must remember to use "jolly good" when writing this book I am currently in the middle of.

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  3. As one who worked in the tax profession... and had clients in the doggy daycare business... $10 is way too cheap.
    The going rate is like forty ludicrous dollars a day!
    You could be rolling in the dough. And think of the friends for little Spencer.