Well, I came into work at 5:30 on my day off and it is now 2:35. I am going home to die myself a nice shade of corpse bride white so I can resurrect myself for another similar day tomorrow... and Friday... and Saturday... and Sunday... Monday I can come in at 9. Whoo hoo!
Don't get me wrong, I volunteered to do this because no one else can do this without big training and because I like helping people. I'm single and as much as I may have resented the assumptions past employers have made about my automatic availability in times of faux crises, this is a real crisis and I like the people enough to say "What the heck, why not." The problem is that I found muscles shoveling that heavy crap in my driveway that housekeeping for these last 7 months didn't reveal. And I am not really having a lot of luck in the getting sleep department. And it is Winter. For ten years I have worked at a job that I could, in essence, hibernate for the rest of the day. It is a stretch for me. And while I can appreciate the kind of character building this is accomplishing in my life... I am reminded of why exactly the pioneering life in America's mid and wild Western Frontiers was so excruciatingly solitary, even among a small community of settlers. There is too much friggin' work to do when you are boiling water for washing, cooking, and cleaning; hauling wood (thank G'd it's already chopped!) and trying to cook a meal in one friggin' pan. I am so tired from working here all day, I don't want to boil water for tea much less anything else. And socialize? NOT BLOODY FRIGGIN' LIKELY!!!
Rant over? Sure, why not. It's not like I have a lot of energy for anything else. I am not even certain that I have the energy for meeting Verta today... or driving home... or even undressing for bed... but I can not sleep in my work clothes.