Goddamn Labor Day

Am I the only loser that has to work every labor day? To add insult to injury, just about everyone agrees that only shitty restaurants stay open for this holiday...

Two days ago, Sunday, which is supposed to be a day for picnics in the park followed by an evening of heavy intoxication, was neither picnicky nor intoxicating for me (unless you count getting verbally shit on as intoxicating). I spent the morning doing chores around the house and practicing music to further my awesome music career, which so far has earned me a total of $40.00. Then I set out with a stinky bag of laundry which I was actually excited to do because I thought I had a friend joining me for the festivities. Instead of that happening, I spent the afternoon alone at the laundromat wondering why I ever bother to leave the house. My laundry date cancelled on me but apparently I'm not even worthy enough of a phone call to say "I'm cancelling on you". Instead, I got to sit all by myself shirking other offers of companionship while waiting for the appropriate 2 hour window to elapse so I could make the official "fuck you" phonecall to said laundry date. After 30 minutes of back and forth insult hurling (thank you AT&T for making this all possible) it was agreed upon by both parties that we would never speak again, nor attempt any further contact. Wonder-fucking-ful. In this lovely state of positivity I prepared for my evening at work, musing all the while why my supposedly fantastic restaurant stays open on such a wonderful holiday meant to be shared with good friends and family. Suddenly, as I piled into my roommate's car with my work uniform in hand, I made a revelation that should have occurred to me long ago. My good friends and family are the people I work with, so our dear lord (that would never forsake a cheery lamb like me) bestowed a blessing in disguise as a curse by making me work both Sunday and Monday night of this year's Labor Day holiday.
I haven't had this much clarity since two Labor Days past when I ate mushrooms with Elliot and Emmanuel, and then roamed through Golden Gate park, only to discover that those little people running through the grass were actually children.