rambling
(Look out Rufus, here comes some more naval gazing! Quick! Stop reading! It's not too late to save yourself!)
It is 3am and I am, disastrously, jacked up on coffee. I thought I was going to be stuck at work for another graveyard shift because that damn, brain-damaged hippie didn't show up again. I held onto hope until about 1:15, then I decided to make some coffee and be prepared for the long-haul. Last time this happened I got off easy. I was working with Ball-cap, who has been there even longer than me and didn't really need me around so he let me sleep in the loft all night. Tonight, I would've been working with an on-caller who hasn't worked in our building since February. I would hardly have been able to leave her alone for five minute, much less for long enough to have a nap.
That's why I made the coffee. Three-quarters of the way through my first cup-a-joe, Brain-damaged Hippie calls up. "Hey, my alarm didn't go off, I'm sorry." Yeah, "sorry" doesn't get me in bed at a decent hour, buddy. So I arranged for his cab and poured the rest of my coffee out. Now I'm finally home, but too jittery to sleep. Last week, one of our residents set fire in a room and destroyed a toilet, then scampered out the front door and into the night while the alarms blared and the sprinklers sprinkled and the broken toilet geysered water everywhere. There was *tons* of water damage done to the building and for four days straight there have been industrial fans all over the building trying to dry things up. The fans make a racket so insistant and droning you want to scream. In fact, you *have* to scream just to be heard. Under those conditions, that place is extra exhausting.
Yet here I am, wide awake. I guess I'll have to lay there and count sheep until the coffee wears off. Maybe I'll dream about the funny cabbie who drove me home at 2:30 and spent the whole ride trying to convince me that Brain-damaged Hippie was always sleeping through his alarm because he was using speed. "He's probably coked out of his head all night," exclaimed the cabbie with a kind of creepy glee, "just to stay awake, having a jolly time, and then he goes home and crashes and can't hear his alarm clock!" Made me wonder what was keeping the cabbie up for his late-night shift. So I asked. His answer: lots of water and fresh pineapple. Yeah. Right.
It is 3am and I am, disastrously, jacked up on coffee. I thought I was going to be stuck at work for another graveyard shift because that damn, brain-damaged hippie didn't show up again. I held onto hope until about 1:15, then I decided to make some coffee and be prepared for the long-haul. Last time this happened I got off easy. I was working with Ball-cap, who has been there even longer than me and didn't really need me around so he let me sleep in the loft all night. Tonight, I would've been working with an on-caller who hasn't worked in our building since February. I would hardly have been able to leave her alone for five minute, much less for long enough to have a nap.
That's why I made the coffee. Three-quarters of the way through my first cup-a-joe, Brain-damaged Hippie calls up. "Hey, my alarm didn't go off, I'm sorry." Yeah, "sorry" doesn't get me in bed at a decent hour, buddy. So I arranged for his cab and poured the rest of my coffee out. Now I'm finally home, but too jittery to sleep. Last week, one of our residents set fire in a room and destroyed a toilet, then scampered out the front door and into the night while the alarms blared and the sprinklers sprinkled and the broken toilet geysered water everywhere. There was *tons* of water damage done to the building and for four days straight there have been industrial fans all over the building trying to dry things up. The fans make a racket so insistant and droning you want to scream. In fact, you *have* to scream just to be heard. Under those conditions, that place is extra exhausting.
Yet here I am, wide awake. I guess I'll have to lay there and count sheep until the coffee wears off. Maybe I'll dream about the funny cabbie who drove me home at 2:30 and spent the whole ride trying to convince me that Brain-damaged Hippie was always sleeping through his alarm because he was using speed. "He's probably coked out of his head all night," exclaimed the cabbie with a kind of creepy glee, "just to stay awake, having a jolly time, and then he goes home and crashes and can't hear his alarm clock!" Made me wonder what was keeping the cabbie up for his late-night shift. So I asked. His answer: lots of water and fresh pineapple. Yeah. Right.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 2:58 AM
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