Okay, it’s past midnight, which means while I still have an entire workshift to go, I’m actually leaving tomorrow. Soon, very soon, I can stop playing the “48-hour” game (you know, “48 hours from now I will be eating a home-cooked meal”; “48 hours from now I will be fast asleep in my own bed”; “48 hours from now my feet won’t be hurting”) and start playing the “24-hour” game.
Tonight’s moving along, but I can’t remember the last time I was this tired. And I have to stay up tonight for my last night at the Nugget. There’s a party in the hospitality suite after work. I’m going to make it up till 9 a.m. come hell or high water. How’s that for living on the edge?
What’s with all the people giving World Trade Tower remembrance and tribute books as Christmas presents? Doesn’t seem too cheery to me.
One more hour until we start cleaning and one hour and fifteen minutes until I get to fall asleep on the bus.
