Michelangelo sibyl from the Sistine Chapel

 

give us a hug

The streetlights in my neighborhood were out last night when I drove to work. Suddenly my usual nightly commute felt very odd to me. Instead of a steady glow down the street, there were porch lights shining here and there in the darkness. There weren't any storms in the area so I have no idea what caused the partial blackout.

...

One would think that I would get less melodramatic with age, but the opposite seems to be true. For the past couple of Saturdays I've been digging myself a nice deep emotional hole to fall into for hours. I'm not sure what brings it on or what I do that makes me feel so apathetic, but it does seem to be happening more and more frequently.

Someone at work pointed out to me that I've worked every Saturday night for close to two years sitting in a room by myself. He said that what I was doing was no better than being in prison. Hearing this made me laugh, because the second shift guy also calls it the detention center. The strange part is that I don't mind being by myself for hours at work. Oh, milling around at my house gets depressing at times, but that isn't what happens to me at work. Even though I might be depressed most of Saturday afternoon, I generally start to feel better once I get to work. Something about just being able to think for a few hours and knowing that I am getting paid at the same time really helps me.

Then again there are times when I wouldn't mind spending the night with a woman who loves me.

...

Oh, I should also mention that there wasn't any flirting Friday night at work. She was pretty tired most of the night and even fell asleep for part of it. I just couldn't bring myself to wake her, which may or may not have been the right thing to do. In her defense I think that I should mention that Friday nights at work are pretty slow and she did have most of her stuff done already.

Yes, I work with some highly professional people, but I've learned to adapt to just about anything over the years.

 
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