Day Twenty

Another opportunity to work overtime passed yet again with little regret. I sought not to extend my work week with its daily routine of boredom's nothing to do and exhaustion's back straining labors. I opted instead to rest. For my Monday through Friday gig is a dull and painful one. At any point in a given work day when I'm not twiddling my thumbs you will find me stretching my back and rubbing at the soreness along my spine. This I endeavor to do while shifting from foot to foot in an effort to still the throbbing in my ankles and knees. I am truth be told only a few degrees shy of hobbling and groaning. The reason for this is a simple one. I believe my work boots are the culprit. They are cheap and offer scant support. And then there is age. I feel it like I've never felt it before via constant aches both shooting and throbbing that do not go away when I punch the clock at the end of my work day. Even now my body is a riot of sore spot protest. I feel in need of a twenty-four hour massage.

But enough of my boo hoo lament. Mine is not to reason why. This is the work before me until such time as a new opportunity presents itself. Then perhaps I will be able to work smarter rather than harder. Meanwhile until such time I am a grunt, one who labors by the strength of his back.

As painful and debilitating as these labors are they do have the power to speed up the clock. Thus my days alternate between labor's physical struggles and the psychological strains of boredom from having no tasks in which to engage. One might look upon my days as one of the levels in Dante's Inferno. For If I had such start and stutter labors for all of eternity I would indeed go mad, and suffer too.

But my my job like life itself is only temporary. The is no call for hoopla and ardent protests. Before I know it I will have moved on to a new position, perhaps even one that interests me. I can always hope.

And that's the way it is on day twenty.