Manolo says, it is Monday and you are back at your desk wishing that you had managed to make the first two weeks of June your vacation, rather than the last two weeks of July.
You need the break, because a) it has been the powerfully awful month or so at your place of employment, what with the off-laying of various low-level employees and the added work which has been piled upon you as the result, and b) because the school year has ended for your children, and your 12-year-old son and your 15-year-old daughter are at the home, alone, unsupervised.
This should not really be the cause of worry, as not only are they the generally good children, but they are also plenty old enough to care for themselves. Indeed, your own grandfather held down the adult employment by that age, something he never failed to mention at the various family gatherings.
“On Friday afternoons, I’d hand your great-grandfather my pay envelope, and he’d hand me back two one-dollar bills. That was my money for the whole week. Lunch, Dinner, Sodey Pop. The whole shootin’ match. Fourteen years old, working a man’s job for two dollars a week.”
“Yes, Grandpap,” you’d answer, dutifully.
“A course, didn’t need that much money back then. A nickle’d get you a candy bar, a dime would do for a hotdog.”
“Bought my first car for $94. People now-a-days don’t know the meaning of money. Think it grows on trees like persimmons, er pippin apples.”
Look! Beautiful shoes!
What would your Grandpappy say?