Greetings From The Graveyard
The routine I'm settling into is not a life I care to live. I get home around 5:45 AM and go straight to bed. The first two days I woke up at 1:30, today 3:00. I get some minor things done around the house, cook dinner and leave for work at 6:30-ish. I'm at Monkeytech for 10+ hours and start the night shift cycle again when I stumble home.
The first five or six hours of the night aren't too bad. I have a multiple machines to attend and programming. Before I know it the clock strikes midnight. That should be lunch for me but I'm not very hungry. I had a full meal at 6:00. I might take a short snack break when I'm idle but I mostly work straight through the ten hours.
Tonight I decided to take a break to write. After I post this, the worst stretch of the graveyard shift is upon me. The hours between 1:00 and 5:00 AM are torture. Thank Dog for my Ipod and the Keurig coffee maker. When Grumpy John relieves me around 4:30, or whenever he shows up, I'm in no mood to chat. I wrap up whatever task needs wrapping and get-the-fuck-out-of-Dodge.
I can do this five nights per week but have no intention of pulling a weekend shift. I see Cheryl for less than one hour in the morning and another 45 minutes in the evening. It would be nice to have some semblance of a life from Saturday morning through Monday evening .... when hell-shift begins anew.
I'm not complaining ..... just tellin' it like it is. If I put on my rose colored glasses working nights isn't all bad. There are some positives.
1. My commute is swimming against rush hour with all traffic going the other way, very slowly.
2. I do enjoy the quiet uninterrupted hours. I get a lot of work done when left alone.
3. The men's room, always occupied and stinky during the day, is available anytime nature calls.
4. When I need to heat something there's no line at the microwave .... and no inconsiderate asshole cooking an 18 pound frozen turkey.
5. I can whistle and sing to my music without annoying my coworkers ...... not that I ever let 'annoying' stop me.
I was not a happy camper Tuesday when I forgot my Ipod. I packed the pod with pumping-up music. So far tonight it's been Frank Zappa and John Hiatt. In the witching hours I have to kick it up a notch to fight off the Sandman, a formidable foe.
It's time for another cup of coffee and some rockabilly. I may even dance or play air guitar. Who will know? The graveyard tells no tales.