Who Would Have Thought...

...that working an eight-hour day would be so darn exhausting? It's not like I work in the salt mines or, as a friend put it, like I "live in Ireland during the 30s" (or was it the 40s? Either way, I suppose). And yet: I'm barely awake enough to compose this riveting bit of narrative.

I hope that this is just temporary (haha! like the job!) and that I simply need to reacclimate to a life of steady work. After all, I did it before, and for two years.

I totally stole MUNI today, by the way. Wasn't going to make it to the front of the train before it closed the doors, so I just jumped on. Never paid. I'm a thief. Thank god my moral character application is complete!

An uneven, ill-tempered sleep is calling my name. I hope it manifests in a more peaceful and fulfilling form than it has these last few days. And that I'm not roused by two-days-too-early Irish revelers.