Working

When you're good to Mama
Mama's good to you. -- Queen Latiffa, Chicago

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Shad's computer is still in the dumps. After some misleading information yesterday afternoon, we were ready to go home and fix it all up and everything was going to be fine... but that was not the case. The persons we were waiting on for help disappeared, and around 1am we decided that we should just put it off until tomorrow. I did let him borrow my external HD, and so at least we'd have that first half of the job done already. He's off today. I'm not.

It's quite something to be working 12 to 14 hours every day in the service business. Aside from making around 200 every two or three days, it is rather... unsettling. After all, it takes quite a constitution to withstand the endless lines of jackass zombies. They moan and groan, and rip you apart, and they never go away -- they're always there. Strange that I can dislike them so much. I mean, hey, I love zombies. Real ones. They're great. Great art, great stories, great shooting practice. And I love... well, some people... but put them together, and it's just... ah... crazy.

You know, I remember being in school. High school was so... difficult; mostly because I was in swimming, school, and of course, work. Everyone can remember that. And if it didn't happen to you, you know someone it happened to. The annoying thing was that your parents were never forgiving about it all. "We work all day," they'd excuse themselves. As if working all day was harder than waking up, having school, sports, work, and then homework...

Well... it's close. But then again. I'd rather work 8 hours a day than 12-14.