Do you know what's deliciously ambiguous?
Float days, that's what.
I mean, they're not sick days, or personal days, or vacation days.
So who's to say they're not for...impromptu but totally necessary middle-of-the week getaways to Buffalo?
Or for the opening day of Ribfest. I mean, how often do the best rib-makers in the world visit your city? Well, at least annually, I'll grant you that. And so what if I don't eat ribs? There's other stuff to eat too...if you like large vats of bbq sauce.
And then, for those mornings where you wake up, angry that the alarm has interrupted a very good dream, and decide that 5 more hours isn't overindulgence, it's...well, it's just the right amount of dulgence, that's what it is.
But you have to pay for float days. They're not free:
Buying 2 complete new wardrobes, mounds of clothes, thousands of dollars.
Every drawer in the house bulges, threatens to burst its hinges and cause elbow- and knee- related injuries when it does. The closets are stuffed, and every hanger is occupied (some of them doubly). Still, we have a pile of clothes the size of...okay, not Everest. I was going to say Everest, but clearly that would be exaggerating. Truthfully, it's probably only as big as Kilimanjaro.
Having a milkshake for breakfast.
Listening to Jason say "Ow, my belly hurts. Why did you let me have a milkshake for breakfast?" all morning long, until he had 2 milkshakes for lunch, and it suddenly cleared up.
Going for a night time drive, staying out for a couple of hours even though gas is costing us $1.09 per litre and someone supposedly had to work in the morning.
Listening to Jason sing "Rock Lobster" at least thrice.
Hosting a little get together at our house, and mixing no less than 97 cocktails.
Upon mixing the 94th, I decided not to stop until I hit 100. Of course, by 94 no one even possessed the ability to swallow any longer. So I took it upon myself to make up the difference...I got to 97 before I found that my head was somehow mashed into the carpet, and I kinda liked it that way.
Calling in a float day for Jason once again, with the hazy concept of "day-tripping" on the brain.
I don't know; you tell me. What could possibly go wrong?