When I was more of a mess than I am now and new to the terrifying drudgery of a shift in the sawmill I dreaded each and every day. Just like I dreaded each day in school before my life of work took form. My favourite years ended when I entered kindergarten. If only I could have kept on riding my tricycle around the teardrop street all summer and skating on the endless sea of ice that was my Canada until the fucking government forced my parents to send me to school to watch the clock above the teacher. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Fuck off!
Now I appreciate the value of a boring day: no fights, no serious injuries and no one fired. That is what I look forward to when the Hammer urges me from my roller derby girl dreams with her cold nose on my drooly face.