I never realized how sad my life was until I had a brief conversation with a co-worker, today. We were waiting for a meeting to start, when she looked over and asked me, “How was your weekend?”
Here’s how the rest of the conversation went:
Me: It was…[Pauses to think.] is my face red?
Me: Oh. Because I was out in the sun all day… I, um… [Scrunches eyebrows.] With uh… [Places hand on chin, struggling to find an answer.] You know…
Her: [Nods head. Feigns interest.]
[CFO walks in and the meeting starts.]
The funniest part of that brief interaction was how quickly the expression on her face went from genuinely interested to Can you just shoot me in the forehead?
When the conversation began, it was almost as if she were expecting some crazy stories about unicycles and total intoxication. And for some odd reason, so was I. But then I started to tell the tale of my Sunday, and after about three words, I realized that there was absolutely nothing exciting to describe. Not a thing. Hell, FOX News couldn’t even turn my weekend into something interesting.
I don’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point, I became an extraordinarily boring, middle-aged man. Except, I’m only 27.
That’s it. Next weekend, this all changes. Next weekend I’m going out and doing something. Something exciting. Something awesome.
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