Finally, I was going to get a vacation. My damn boss never gave me any time off, but since I'm self-employed I had only myself to blame. I run a small electrical contracting company and business is quite good. Having been through slow times before, my motto was "Never turn down work." However, I've been going for nearly two years with little more than a day or two for kayaking, or hiking, or taking Stephanie to some exotic location like an abandoned stable to show her new ways to use ropes, or maybe a jacuzzi suite at a nearby hotel. Due to her college course load and the fact that she still lived with her mom who had no idea she was screwing the older guy next door, I only got to see her two or three times a month. So it was with heavy balls that I marched into the local mall in search of one of those do-it-yourself photo booths. See, my passport was out of date and I needed a new one if I wanted to leave the country. Well, I could leave but I couldn't get back in again. I needed the photos to include with my passport renewal application, along with the requisite form, my old passport, and of course, their fee. They said four-to-six weeks to get my new one, so realistically I needed to get the paperwork on its way pronto if I wanted to leave before the next ice age. When I was a k** those photo booths were everywhere; a box the size of a closet where people go in, sit on a little bench, and mug for the camera. There's usually a thin curtain to conceal them from …
