It is a blessing and a curse. The sawmill, when it has been running, has been manning one shift for so long I have gotten used to waking up well before the sun rises - even on weekends - no matter how much I drink. When I wake up I look over at the clock and say to myself, "Jesus Mother Fuck. This is so fucked up."
Sawmills, when I was a young man, all operated on two or three shifts and your shift rotated, weekly some places, bi-weekly at others, every four weeks where I worked. Nobody ever got used to waking up at a certain time. I remember waking up late on weekends thinking I was late for work again, taking a shit and rushing into my work clothes before asking myself, "Wait a fucking minute. What day is it today?" as I staggered, like Yellowbeard, towards my truck and the motherfucking job.
This morning, as Sonja and the Hammer have slept peacefully, I have had coffee, got the latest Australian news the CBC broadcasts in the middle of the night (my beer loving brothers and sisters down there are being overrun with camels!), cleaned the kitchen, filled the slow cooker with what will become our evening meal, made muffins, reviewed my selections for today's standardbred races and am already thinking about having the first beer of the day.
Later today Sonja will ask me, "What the fuck have you done today?" after the first beer has led to several more on the shores of Kraut Lake and I do not even have the energy left to fill my lunch bucket for another Monday, early in the morning.
No comments:
Post a Comment