happy new year folks.
you’re 7 and the wood floor is cold and instead of a gentle wake from your mother. your older brother rips your blankets off. turns on the light and says get up and leaves. no choice is left.
that’s what this first day back to work is.
each year has gotten better and better. not a chance of fate, one bit. good comes from hard work, true heart. here’s to 2013.
but first, a sluggish start.