Hello faithful Lechner Blog viewers, it’s Matt here. For those of you not aware of my situation at KARE 11, I am required to take a week-long furlough (week off without pay). This is Gannett’s way of saving money, without laying people off. While I don’t like missing out on a week’s worth of pay, I do like still having a job. I have big plans for the week, a lot of things to do around the house. But before we get to the tasks at hand, I needed one night of fun to kick off my week. On Sunday night, Chris Larsen and I headed down to Canterbury Park, the horse track in town, and did a little off-track betting on the ponies. It is my first love (of my gambling loves).
What you’re about to read is my attempt at being creative. At work I get to be creative, but since I’m off this week (NO WORK-MANDATORY), my creativity will spill over onto the family blog. I will try and keep you updated on my furlough trials and tribulations. Here’s my first try, I call it “A Furlough’s Eve.”
‘Twas the night before furlough and Matt was not in the house, he was out betting on creatures, no not a mouse. The track had been callin’, I needed a fix, but with family and job, it’s not in the mix. But then came a word I’ve never heard—furlough—said the big bird. With a week off from work, and no place to go, I hoped to hit it big on a win, place or show. To Canterbury Park I want, no flight required, sure it was late, but I wasn’t tired. No alarm clock set for 3 a.m., excited to gamble, you bet I am. First race starts without a hitch, hey I’m a winner, but still not rich. Then in the second I bet on four, miss by a nose, I stomp the floor. I play a little longer, nothing goes right, a hard one to swallow with no paycheck in sight. But, it really didn’t matter that my wallet wasn’t fatter, because I’m on Fur-cation.
What you’re about to read is my attempt at being creative. At work I get to be creative, but since I’m off this week (NO WORK-MANDATORY), my creativity will spill over onto the family blog. I will try and keep you updated on my furlough trials and tribulations. Here’s my first try, I call it “A Furlough’s Eve.”
‘Twas the night before furlough and Matt was not in the house, he was out betting on creatures, no not a mouse. The track had been callin’, I needed a fix, but with family and job, it’s not in the mix. But then came a word I’ve never heard—furlough—said the big bird. With a week off from work, and no place to go, I hoped to hit it big on a win, place or show. To Canterbury Park I want, no flight required, sure it was late, but I wasn’t tired. No alarm clock set for 3 a.m., excited to gamble, you bet I am. First race starts without a hitch, hey I’m a winner, but still not rich. Then in the second I bet on four, miss by a nose, I stomp the floor. I play a little longer, nothing goes right, a hard one to swallow with no paycheck in sight. But, it really didn’t matter that my wallet wasn’t fatter, because I’m on Fur-cation.
3 comments:
You should be a poet. Fur-cation, indeed!
Love, W
Hey there son-in-law! I'm so glad you wrote! I was gettting tired of all the "baby this and baby that" stuff Becky puts on. (really kidding there!) You are a talented writer so keep it up. I love to hear about all of you. Have a good week whatever you do. Love, Mom
There once was a man from Nantucket
Um, I forgot the rest.
Get a job hippie!! This furlough crap is for prisoners, not Lechners.
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