By the Light of the Silvery Moon

...I left the house to go to work this morning. Could it even be called this morning? It felt more like 'last night.' The moon, bright and full, was shining overhead. I was on time (early, actually) and was laboring at the sanding table at 6 a.m., having been stirred from deep sleep at 4:10 am. And I'm doing it again tomorrow. And every monday through friday until Christmas. And there I labored until five o'clock. Eleven hours of working my hands to bleed.

Do you realize that people died in order to secure an eight hour day for the American workforce? "Eight hours for work! Eight hours for sleep! Eight hours for what we will!" That was the chant of the nascent American labor movement.

And boy, did they ever have a point. I'm beat to hell.

After work, I stopped into Starbucks. Bucky (who hasn't called) wasn't there, so I took a drool nap with my latest Raymond Chandler (Trouble is My Business) in my lap.

Same deal tomorrow. Only tomorrow, it will be pouring rain.

But y'know what, it's still such a better deal than dealing with Boss Sunshine last year this time. I was thinking about him earlier today, wondering if he's replaced me, and wondering just where my successor might be on the miserable index about now. 'Twas about this time that Boss Sunshine was first bellowing and raging at me over the phone before I went to our office holiday party.

Anyway, things are good and life is good. And despite the flaws, I love my job. No stress, no pressure. You work damn hard and they give you money every two weeks. I'm up for that.

---