Often, I think that the only reason I keep my job, despite lacking any particular fondness for carrying out the specific labors it entails, is so that when people ask me what I do for work, I do not have to begin my response by saying, “Well, actually…” But then, on days such as today, the day before I am obligated by the terms and conditions of my employment to return to work following a long and thoroughly enjoyable vacation full of backcountry hiking and healthful foods and little hemp flower cigarettes containing only trace amounts of THC, these days also being days on which upon further reflection the idea of beginning my response, when people ask me what I do for work, by saying, “Well, actually…” really doesn’t sound so bad after all, I remember that the real reason I keep my job, despite lacking any particular fondness for carrying out the specific labors it entails, is that I need the money badly. In case you were wondering, the official title of my job, which also serves as a reasonably on-the-nose description of the aforementioned labors it entails, is “Horse Inseminator.” In short, I inseminate horses, female horses, with the semen collected from male horses by, I can only hope, someone who earns more money than I do, and needs it even worse.
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Really loved this. The pacing is bang on.
Still beats (no pun intended) being a congressman/woman/person. Hold your head high, that way you won’t get splashed.