The guys who live next door have left town so all is quiet at the house, it’s strange kind of quiet that we’re not really used to. Since the guys are on vacation no one knocked on our door last night asking for beer and for a while at least no one will be getting high on the front steps. Not once in the last three days have The Slackmistress and I asked one another “What is going on over there?” The apartment next door is a strange place that will make you shake your head and ask questions that I can’t answer. The question I ask myself is: What are they taking a vacation from? Has sitting shirtless on the steps started to wear on them? They don’t have jobs, in fact I don’t even know how they manage to feed themselves; I’m guessing that they captured a leprechaun who gave them its treasure but I can’t confirm that. It is the most likely explanation though for how two unemployed guys are taking month long vacations while I’m here with Johnny Timeclock trying to budget a five day trip home. What am I doing wrong? Is working hard, paying my bills and having insurance the wrong way to go? Maybe the hobo life is for me.
Speaking of hobos, as part of something I’m working on I set aside time recently to read through my own blog archives. It’s only fair that I read mine considering that if I’ve been to your blog I’ve read your archives. I was looking for things I may have forgotten about and I discovered that in almost four years of keeping this going hobos are the third most popular topic here right behind robots and midgets but ahead of lazy eyed baristas.