Just a perfect day . . .

. . .drank Sangria in the park.

Thanks to an e-mail as graphic as it was descriptive (with photo attachment), I was able to secure another day off work, without question.

I'm growing to enjoy the neighborhood in the daytime hour. It's a completely different cast and crew. Everyone is at tremendous ease. Everyone dressed in a manner that tells, "I woke up at noon and came here without brushing my teeth". At the sandwich shop, a man in business casual waited in line. Everyone looked at him and snickered. Myself included. I'm left to wonder who these people are and how they support themselves. I have to imagine that these day-walkers work the graveyard shift in a fringes of the workforce call center or some other environment where they're bathed in fluorescent lighting. In my mind they have to pay for such lackadaisicalness, somehow.

I recall Second Grade and being separated from the rest of the class for being disruptive. Or eating something I wasn't supposed to. Regardless, I was seated at a desk facing a window. For the next hour I watched cars drive past the school as I thought to myself, "Who the hell gets to drive around at 10:30 on a Tuesday?"

To this day, I never stopped envying those people.