Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Bitchin': Grave Digging

Grave Digging

Working at night may have its advantages. You can unceremoniously scratch your nether regions, take a nap on the toilet or spend an entire hour dancing to Eric Hutchison. Yes, he is a dorkified preppy-dressed, hippy-thinking white boy but he's alright with me.
But the midnight watch is not for everyone. I have co-workers whose fingertips have been burned by the midnight oil. One woman felt so nauseated she had to lie on the dirty, staple-strewned carpet in.
The most obvious side-effect to me is this unabatting desire to tear a living thing apart, one limb at a time. (where's your imagination...don't be so literal).
I am not a night owl; more like a morning lark.
In a past life, my people walked with Ra and took pains to mimick Him. I wake up with the sun and my body begs me to lay it down soon after the sun drifts below the horizon line. Even when I was in college, I did not often pull all nighters.
Don't get me wrong. I can stay up after 11 pm but then I just don't want to be chipping away at any "serious" endeavour. All activities past the 23rd hour must be fun, licentious or innocent, depending on the mood...

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