Well, you sure know. They are short. Especially when they consist of 12 hours of work and 2 hours of public transportation. I do my best to use those commuting hours for literary purposes but I’m just an ordinary human being without any superpowers. My brain does not perform on a very high level at 5.45 am.
Starting the day at 5 am is definitely not the same as starting it at 6 am. This one short hour makes all the difference. I am now miserable 90% of the time and only daydreaming about quitting my job gives me any pleasure.* Sleep withdrawal is a very powerful tool of torture.
* I have this bad habit of quitting jobs very quickly if they make me feel unhappy**
** since I feel unhappy all the time, regardless of what’s going on in my life, it actually does not matter the least bit wether I quit my job or not. I guess the only solution would be to quit life itself. Fortunately (unfortunately?!) I have never been suicidal, not even during my worst times. I’m actually horribly afraid of dying. I guess it’s just a natural side effect of my job; eight years of watching people die, then dumping their bodies in plastic bags*** did not really help to manage my intrinsic depression but it really made me worship life regardless of its quality.
*** the daily chores of a nurse. Just in case you wanted to know what I’m actually doing during those 12 hours. An emotionally rewarding job, isn’t it?****
**** sorry for being sarcastic. I’m just not the crying kind.
Well. At least April
was full of contained traces of Paasilinna whom I love deeply so I guess I’d better stop whining.