You would think that as I work for an association whose sole function is to influence public policy and hobnob with the goonies of government that I wouldn’t have to work on a federal holiday. Alas, you would be wrong.
This morning my husband rolled over for more snoozing as I kissed his cheek. He gets to stay home. Then I shuffled out of my house to be greeted by a street full of parked cars, completely unheard of on a workday. Damn my neighbors, snug in their beds! They get to stay home too.
Stomping off the bus I had to walk past puffy piles of dirty foam, a fallen banner proclaiming “Foam Party Sunday!” Three-day holiday weekend. Yeah. Rock on. All those partygoers get to stay home, nursing their hangovers.
Now I’m in the office and everyone who didn’t sacrifice one of our precious vacation days is griping about how it’s a ghost town and how nothing will get done today and how unfair worklife is – pretty comical.
Columbus really has fallen on hard times.
This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs