I ended up shoving my keyboard back under the desk to soldier on to the Hobo Trail out back behind our building. It's a bike trail beside the levee, marked with transients and well, hobos. It's my reprieve from the constant, cruel government air conditioning that pounds down on me and my contact lenses, causing me to look not unlike someone who abuses methamphetamines. But the hobos and nautical bros in their boats will stare at me endlessly as if I am some sort of mermaid siren on the shitty shore, minus the tail and plus some insufferable black slacks that are absorbing each and every degree of the 130 degree heat. Today, I had the pleasure of slipping on someone's used condom (not mine) and plunging into the river for a brief spell. The bros and hobos continued to stare placidly.
I stumbled back into work to find that some absolute ass has written "vacation" next to my name on the board. I don't think they want to start taking poetic license with that thing.