Waiting on SpongeBob
44 years old. A glass of scotch in hand, waiting on the yellow sponge. 44 years old and I am waiting, with the kids, for SpongeBob Squarepants and his pal, Patrick to come on and amuse me.
“Amuse me sponge! Amuse me!”
Ah, sweet life in the square. Unemployed. Scotch. Trying to move forward, thinking impossible dreams and I am telling myself that it is not as hard as it seems. We can move forward, with faith, in hope that tomorrow, that tomorrow will be a little better than today. If it isn’t, then I am going to make it better than today. Each day counts kids, each day counts.
It smells like fish and I can see the moon. I wonder what kind of day it will be?
I remember a kid thinking I was Alex P Keaton. That was years ago, when I lived in Saskatoon. Sorry kid. Wrong number.
What are you doing? Tonight? Today? Are you making it count?