Dad H. and I have taken to walking in the mornings at the mall to get some exercise. We make two rounds of the building, which is equal, I'm told, to two miles. Jessica has come with us once, but she has a job, so it's more difficult for her to make that time. It's good to walk, but not having a job is getting a bit stressful. So yesterday we were on our way home, and I turned to Dad H. and said:

"I know what job I want."

"Yeah?"

"I want your job. I want to be retired."

He started to guffaw at that. "Well, you can't have my job. There aren't any openings."

"No openings, eh?"

"No. And they'd probably say you're not qualified enough."

"Not enough experience, eh?"

"Yeah. Not enough experience. See, you don't have enough stories."

"I can make 'em up."

He laughed at that. "Yeah, I guess you could."

He's right though: I'm not qualified to have his job. Darn.