T-minus 2 days and I don’t know if it’s the standard daily depression or being depressed for knowing I will not be able to call away for a pizza in three days.
Either way, it sucks.
Breakfast – normal daily operating procedures with the Swiss Cake Rolls and Monster. White labeled sugar-free is the preferred one in hand, with orange labeled not far behind. Seriously, how did this routine never get old?
Lunch – standard SOP of a Whopper meal super sized and three gallons of vanilla coke from the freestyle machine. I just couldn’t understand why my stomach hurt heading back to the job site…it couldn’t have anything at all to do with the 275 grams of fat I just decided to turn into sweet, gooey poo later this evening.
Daily fatigue – standard. If my food intake were a checklist for the small parasites I am sure residing inside me with all the shit food I eat, it would be an easy days work for them to guess what they get to feed on next… the fatigue is unchanged.
Dinner right on time with a four piece fried chicken plate with fried okra and mashed potatoes covered in some sort of brown gravy concoction. Three large, full-flavored Mountian Dews and that plate met their match in a little less than 20 minutes, and that only left looking forward to the time I took my first two sleeping pills for the night.
That, and a few episodes of The Big Bang Theory.
And yes, I understand most of the show.