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Back to work blues, part II

I got through the first day back at the office, though I must confess to a borderline neurotic level of cat-missing. I especially missed our catnaps, in which we lie on the couch and he purrs me to sleep and then a little while later I wake up but he’s sound asleep, and rather than disturb him I just go back to sleep. Over and over and over again.

After work I couldn’t even go straight home because I was meeting the Retired Teachers’ Union for a drink at the Carleton. They do this on the First Day of School after all major holidays, to celebrate the fact that they never have to work again.

Unbeknownst to me, they had started drinking at The Whip in Hull at 8:00 a.m., so by the time I met up with them at the Carleton at 5:00 p.m., most of them had already retired for the evening. There were only two Olympic-caliber Retired Teacher-Drinkers left: Mr. Smith and Mr. Green. My son joined us too.

I had a couple of beers and then hurried home through the January rains to my cat. (Mr. Smith had to stay at the Carleton for another hour because he’s in training and is working towards his twelve-hour endurance goals. I’m not sure Mr. Green had another hour left in him, but he was going to try.)

Sometimes I think it’s hard work working for a living, but I don’t think I’ve got what it takes to be a retired teacher.

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