GIVE ME BACK MY LETTER JACKET

*warning* This is a tequila driven post with a tile saw running as background music.
I got a phone call today that went something like this:
Phone:Ring!-Ring! (well, it's really the midi of chinese waltz ).
Me: Hello?
Phone: Hey man, it's me XXX, I'm calling because the owner is bitching about your shirts.
( These are the generic brown workshirts with the patches on either side that ID where you work and what your name is)
Phone: He wants them back or else he's gonna deduct them from your final check.
Me: Let him know that I have every intention of returning his shirts...as soon as I can find them. And also let him know that I would'nt be caught dead wearing anything with his name on it.
How many shirts?
Phone: Looks like your 7...no 9 short.
Me: OK...I'll look for them and call you back...late...
Phone: OK...Late....
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I found 7... there may be 2 more floating around but who knows? Our house is upside down. 7 is a miracle. And you can be sure if I find the other 2 I will return them.
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I guess breaking up is hard to do.
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Suddenly, I am presented with an opportunity to go to central mexico to do work with sea turtle rescue. This guy can hook me up with accomodations and guides that are his friends...he is apparently connected to all things mexico.
As much as I'd love to "twist off for a month" and get in the sand with some sea turtles, I can't.
Meh...responsibility.
Maybe someday.
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Well... This wasn't the drunken rant I expected it to deteriorate into.
Lucky you :)