bad to the bone

My last shift at the Inn ended today.

So that means there'll be no more lingering inner debate over which knife would make the deepest slits (I decided on the French wooden-handled chef knife).

No more protective Zanax candy for smiling through the double shifts (it's like Valium, but nicer).

And, badda-bing: no more greasy skin from the Fryolater or aching muscles from the hours.

No more two-outfit days, no, weeks: the uniform then the nightgown, the uniform then the nightgown, the uniform then the nightgown ad nauseum.

And no more borrowing other people's cars after Thursday.

And no more sleeping on couches a week and a half after that.

It's like I've got a karmic credit, so now I can go do something bad.

Any suggestions?

betholindo at 4:45 p.m.

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