After ~15 hr of sleep, I wake at 5AM, brew some coffee, daylog, feeling like unto a GOD
. 8 hr of work wears the edge
off that considerably. In my new department-birthday-party-coordinator role, I order a couple of pizzae and hit up my department coworkers for $1 a slice. (Actually, that doesn't really cover the cost of pizza alone, much less tax, delivery, and tip, but I don't much care.) Another shot at finalizing pension rollover to 401(k) - I hereby attest, under penalty of perjury, that I'm sick of red tape.
I spend the evening writing.
It 's a strain to avoid detailing my workday. I'd hate to look back on my journals, a decade from now, and discover I found nothing outside the factory noteworthy. I propose a new job title, since my boss seems to have forgotten: "Quality Assurance Analyst
". Obviously a step up from clerk
, but not a supervisor. He likes it. I suspected he would: it sounds good and means nothing
. Laundry: blacks and cool colors. I leave a few used issues of Scientific American
to complement the laundromat's selection of Woman's Day
, The Watchtower
, and Entertainment Weekly