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10 years ago: I was 28, unmarried, working a temporary job in Green Bay at a paper mill unaware that the next NFL season would lead to a Packer appearance at the Super Bowl. Also, I was still smoking weed. No pets.
5 years ago: I was 33, married, son was a year and a half, working a direct hire (non-temp) job unaware that I was to be let go in a little less than two years. Also, I had quit weed, but still drank too much beer and smoked a pack (of cigarettes) a day. Had a dog and three cats.
(5 days from now: I hope to have a job, currently unemployed)
5 years from now: I hope to have won the lottery or been the favorite of some unknown wealthy deceased relative 'cause I'm getting really sick of this "just barely squeeking by" shit. Son will be eleven, hope he's gotten over this "demon child" phase. Also I hope I'm still not smoking cigarettes any more, and I hope the dog is still alive (same for the cats, but I don't really expect it).
10 years from now: No one can predict who lives or who dies, but 400lb 5'-10" diabetics do not have the most charming of diagnosies (morbidly obese). I hope she's still alive to see Stephen get his driver's license at least. I hope the supervolcano in Yellowstone park won't have blown up yet; it'd also be nice if the entire planet weren't contaminated by radioactive fallout. Hopefully in ten years they'll come up with a cheaper anti-depressant.
Cheers!
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If puns were sausages, this would be the wurst.
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