Yes, "blight", not "bright".
My mother used to say, "No rest for the wicked." Apparently, I've been a very bad boy. A quick look at my finances and the wondrous projections for my social security account, I see that I won't be retiring in 15 or 20 years. Rather, it will be more like 30 or 40 years, assuming that I'm still more productive than an extremely stubby pencil with a chewed-up eraser end. And you know how well companies treat used-up pencils.
Lately, I have been reviewing my future work options. For example, there are several bars in the area. I suppose I could always look into Cocktail Server Jobs. As long as my shakiness hasn't reached earthquake tremor levels, I’m sure I will be able to deliver more drinks than I spill.
There's always the option to trade my plasma for cash -- as long as my blood cells haven't acquired their own wheelchairs and oxygen support systems.
More promising is a third option that I have started working on. Like all promising tasks, it's easy to say, but involves a lot of work that wasn't initially obvious. It's kind of like "cook a meal." By the time you’ve finished, you've found that you spent more hours than first anticipated, worked over more food than you thought possible, and you now have tons of dirtied dishes demanding your attention. Who thought that three little words could involve so much work. Anyway, more on option number three later.
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