The Waiting Game

Ho-hum.
I'm bored, and my eyes are bugging out.
"What," you may ask, "the hell are you doing? Drunk and insomnia?"

No, I've decided to stay up all night.

"Know thyself" it is written, and I do.
I know if I fell asleep at my normal time I would pull a total coma through the blaring alarms (yes, alarms, there are 3 set for every morning), and miss my cab, miss my flight and put my travel plans into complete disarray!

The last few hours trickle by filled with:

• Padding through the apartment (tsch tsch should have cleaned more)
• Petting Little Lilly (who is already breaking my heart at the thought of not being around her *sob*)
• Drinking a pot of coffee
• Worrying over the fact I only have one Camel Light remaining; considering walking to the twenty-four hour gas station up the street, but changing mind as I not in the mood to deal with the Cabbie/ Crack ho clientel there at this hour.
• Staring, walking away, coming back and staring longer at my suitcase. Do I have everything?
• Listening to classical music on the radio because I've learned over the past years classical music seems to stimulate something in my mind that keeps me awake (awake, not necessarily coherent).
• Fiddling with and putting away or rearranging various knick-knacks and papers laying around the apartment.
• Considering taking the rest of the garbage out (pfft, that's not going to happen).
• Wasting time making lame comments here and, of course, here.
• F.W.B? No, too late.
• Blowing my nose, it's so dry in here.
• Staring out the kitchen window at the empty street, slush, and fog.
• Plucking dead leaves from my straggly, scrawny tomato plant. It did flower once. Um, one tiny yellow flower. I want a baby tomato, dammnit!
• Zone-out on the various clocks throughout the apartment.
• Let the Blogger "New Post" screen burn itself into my retinas, flaring my rods and cones, for minutes at a time without typing. My Cube somehow turned into My Blank Shit. Guest bloggers may be needed. HA!
• Scroll through this.
• Pour another coffee.
• Look at last, lonely cigarette on microwave, "Resist, resist, man!"
• Try to think of a paid online job to do during my full-time Bank job since I have such the large amount of down time there. And really, doesn't I Have 3 Jobs ring well with My Cube Has 3 Sides?
• *sigh*
• I want chocolate.

Okay, I'm boring myself.

See you all later!

Yeah. I get paid for this.

This is a sort of montage/listy thing of a typical workday at The Bank:

• Leave home late (fifteen to twenty minutes late).
• Spend ride to post office berating myself for always being late.
• Smoke two cigarettes during ride.
• Fight/swerve/U-turn for a parking space as close as possible to the post office front door.
• If the Caller Window is open, make small talk with Larry. A big burly mean (teddy bear interior) hairy guy who loves to go "to the boats" and gamble and hates most all humans.
• If Caller Window is closed, I stand in line with the common folk and listen to everyone in line (which moves deathly slow. Always.) bitch and complain about how no one works here and they all suck and they move slow and everyone is going to call the Supervisor and there's always one nasally guy yelling as he walks out-- totally extending the rant to the point where you switch from being on his side to thinking, "man, shut the fuck up, bitch!"
• Get mail, light a smoke, pop in current punk tape your into this week, drive to The Bank.
• Give mail to Biggie J. and turn on computer.
• Make coffee.
• Check emails.
• Drink coffee.
• Respond to emails-- 40% of which are stupid and not my jurisdiction/job.
• Pop in a CD (this week= Modest Mouse, Husker Du, Suicidal Tendencies, and Lady Sovereign).
• Drink coffee.
• Deliver any supply orders I left from last night.
• Chat with two hottie Assyrian Tellers I'm trying to get with.
• Fail to hook up with two hottie Assyrian Tellers I'm trying to get with.
• Head back down to The Gopher Hole.
• Listen to music.
• Check email.
• Take nap while Biggie J. goes on his mail run.
• Check out Gawker and vote on my T-shirts.
• Drink Coffee.
• Think about a Lebanese women I met recently, wonder what she's doing.
• Go outside for a cigarette.
• Check out Gapersblock.
• Drink coffee.
• Change CD.
• Check out Chicagoist.
• Take a hot, dark yellow coffee piss.
• Walk around storeroom intending to REALLY straighten this place up more.
• Return to The Gopher Hole.
• Lay back in chair and stare at ceiling for a while.
• Surf the net, emailing myself interesting articles for future reference at home.
• Go outside for a smoke.
• Check emails.
• Drink Coffee.
• Go on a late "official" break, head outside for a smoke.
• Check emails.
• Recheck Gawker.
• Deliver some supplies.
• Return emails letting the recipient
• Nap again while Joe is on Mail run.
• Scratch balls.
• Go to lunch around 3 or 3:30.
• Clock back in and go outside for a cigarette.
• Come back, check-return emails.
• Clock out, go home.

The Gopher Hole at The Bank is either Heaven or Hell on Earth.