I keep summer hours
ROCKET SCIENCE —
The city in the summer. A concrete inferno reeking with the stench of hot garbage and overripe armpits. Infinite ring around the collar, circling into a downward spiral toward the unpleasant sensation that youre going to completely lose your mind if you dont watch out. Which is why I keep Summer Hours.
I get up in the morning – lets call it “Monday morning.” I shower and get dressed. I grab a Grande Frapp on the way to work and get to the office by 10 a.m. I say hello to co-workers. I answer a few emails. I leave the office at 10:50 a.m. and walk the city with my sports coat tossed over one shoulder. I find an open ice cream shop. I walk inside to enjoy the air conditioning. I order a double scoop of mint chip on a sugar cone, the Official Cone of Summer Hours.
Later, I return to the office, but everyone has gone home. Then I remember: Its “Monday Afternoon.” Summer Hours. I decide its too hot to go home just yet and that Ill take a nap on my desk.
When my boss wakes me, he says, a bit rudely, “Were all in the Monday meeting. Get your ass in there, now.” So it turns out everyone didnt go home.
“Jesus, youre all here,” I say as I enter the conference room.