LABORatory Days

Once a year, we sleep in or rush out

Long weekends are meant to enjoy a punctual slack in our stressful lives with essential enough relief to realize we (slaves to the ambitions of success or still opportunity seekers since schools-out years) are embedded in a sharply focused society delivering the perfect conditions — while still being offered coercive elements — we justly pretend to tackle within rational planning.

Family reuniting, panorama (ain’t Tundra hallucinating near such a quiet lake?) gleaning, kid toys shopping, whatever suits your coincidental escape solutions.

The timely cash flow is there ghostly stuck in a wallet alongside plastic rectangles yelling, “Me Too!” Hardly irresistible by degrees. We budget the famous fall September day with two priorities:
1) Move out
2) Spend more

Some opt for the yearly flight to heaven “Let’s go see anything 4500± miles away North-West bound,” others park semi-naked bodies by the warm pool “Vodka on the rocks, dear?”

The science is clear.. our experiments aim at a single glorifying moment of our unpredictable fate; vacation is the gift we earned for being so hypnotized by the machine. We’re the robots that push (er-pull) the slot handle(s) expecting a flood of shiny metallic tokens in our unnerved hands.

Our brains are also synchronized to a monthly clock as well.. every precursor principle that deals with our economic limits jiggle at the wreck we’ll shuffle happily forever down at next week’s bank crash.

We don’t care. It’s payback time.

Nobody counts that soon in the first weekly morning anyway.