Labor Day. For some it signifies the end of summer. For others going back to school. For me it's simply the last day to drink a Tom Collins.* I don't like Labor Day. The dormant angst from my adolescence seems to always reemerges like a lightning bug's shine. It makes me want to lie down, but I know rest won't be coming today even if my mind sprints thousands of miles away. So I will LABOR through this paragraph with nothing better to share than my twenty-four hour bug of despair. And as the day progresses, I will attempt not to stain my seersucker suit** at a barbeque.
*Just ask Holden Caulfield
**No, I don't own a seersucker suit...thankfully.
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