I’m Your Self-Control And FYI I’m On PTO Next Week
I’m going completely off the grid. In fact, consider me dead.
Hey big boss, it’s me, your Self Control. Just wanted to step in and let you know I’m going on a trip to Acapulco. I’ve been working major overtime these past few months, what with white-knuckling sanity and all. So I’m looking forward to a week of sunshine, pedicures, and fresh kombucha. Not your idea of fun? That’s why you have me! Otherwise, every waking moment would be a cocaine vodka orgy.
And just to level set, I won’t be available by text, email, Slack, blimp, or paratrooper. I’m going completely off the grid. In fact, consider me dead. No, you can’t call on me if you’re about to eat an entire birthday cake. I don’t care if you run up your credit card buying topical 2020 nutcrackers. You’ve exercised me so much this year that I need the time-wrinkled hands of an elderly masseuse to rock my posterior on the beaches of a Mexican resort town.
I get that this may be hard for you. Ever since your virtual support network migrated to that new social media app you refuse to download, you’ve been lonelier than Matt Damon in The Martian. You’re a Beatle-less Ringo. A Johnless Elton. With all due respect, suck it up. I haven’t had a wink of shut-eye in two years! Even when you’re asleep, I have to make sure…
