We're on Mancation!

As I write this, I am now entering Day 3 of Mancation 2016.

The cobwebs are a little thick this morning as I inflicted heavy damage to a recently-purchased bottle of Sailor Jerry Spiced Rum, my newest alcoholic vice. It has the easy, smooth drinkability of a lady cocktail. But it's 92 proof, so it has the Holy-Shit-I-Did-That Blackout Potential of a frat boy drink.

For those of you not familiar with the Mancation terminology (interestingly enough, spellcheck does not recognize the word and keeps nagging me to change it) allow me to explain.

Thanks to some stupid late-summer sorority functions, my youngest daughter had to return to the University of Colorado quite early. My wife and other daughter flew to Boulder to assist with the move in process. Leaving me, the dog, and a year's worth of pent up irresponsibility all to ourselves.

What on earth should I do?

Go fly fishing in Wyoming?

A golf outing in Scottsdale?

A last minute camping trip to the Kern River?

A debauched return to Vegas, where I could continue my hot streak on the roulette table and maybe catch a show with an Elvis or Blue Brothers impersonator?

Sadly, none of these options were available. After the early summer advertising doldrums, when the Siegels had to subside on Sneaker Soup and Ketchup Sandwiches, business has picked up.

In a big, big way.

I don't know why it always happens, but when the phone rings once, it often rings twice. Or thrice. That's the nature of being a freelancer.

And so, what could've been 4 days of letting hairs #6, #38, and #129 down, has now become a relentless clicking and clacking and manifesto writing-polluzza that begins at the unheard hour of 5 AM -- even before the neighbor's dog starts howling at the rising sun.

Work, work and more work.

And you wonder why I'm angry all the time?