Whack-a-Mole

For as long as I can remember, I've had a flat, red mole on the back of my shoulder. Then this weekend I noticed that it was raised up and bumpy. The next morning I called the doctor and set an appointment. He saw me in the afternoon and said that it's not a mole at all. It's a small, harmless cluster of blood vessels called a manglealoma, or mangianoma or some name that reminded me of "Chuck Mangione." Either way, it was a relief. I celebrated with a large chocolate shake from Wendy's. One of life's little rewards.

After my afternoon nap I painted some more on the Endless Carport/Utility Shed until sundown. I'm almost done, maybe an hour more of painting. After a hot shower and a change of clothes I grabbed some dinner from Taco Bell. Driving home with the top down, I looked ahead at the rim of purple sky fading into the horizon. I felt the May wind teasing through my hair, and thought about the way I'd spent the afternoon: how I chose. I just smiled and told myself, "This is what it's all about. This is freedom. This is why I'm not a manager anymore. It's why I no longer work 11 hours a day, only to come home pissed off and too tired to do anything else."

Maybe a ten-minute drive in a convertible doesn't sound like a big deal, but believe me, after doing the management gig for three years, the contrast glows with intensity. It's been over a decade, but I'll never forget my last day as a Suit. Leaving the store that night, I felt like I did on the last day of school, like a ton of bricks had been lifted from my shoulders. It was pure freedom. Kind of like this afternoon.