I’ve recently taken to calling them “Bueller Days.” I was proud of myself for coining the phrase a week ago. I used to call them fly days. (If you know anyone else who calls them Bueller Days let me know). You know the days. The sun is shining; white puffy clouds create funny dinosaur shapes one minute and a completely different shape the next, maybe that of a Harry Potter character… maybe not... Maybe a breeze carries your favorite smell – Confederate jasmine, cut grass, or the Chinese grill across the street. Maybe a parade comes through town. All day the slant of light is conducive to all types of magic. You feel like anything could happen, anything could be accomplished – anything but work. It’s quite vexing when you have to go to work on a Bueller day. Seriously, to sort of quote the name sake, how can you possibly be expected to handle anything unmagical on a Bueller Day?
P.S. Sorry for the lack of posts over the last few weeks. I’ve been slammed with work, resumes, applications, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, and so on, and so forth. Also, I’ve been having blogger troubles.