There is now an opening at Schaefer's Foods.

Quitting that job was hard. I feel a tinge of regret, a thrill of freedom, but more than anything else, all I feel is the crushing weight of failure. I have tried something and I have given up. I didn't even try very hard, at that.

In my defense, the glamour of the graveyard shift has been overstated. X-files episodes and Martin Scorsese are partially responsible, but I think everyone shares this idea of the romantic twilight and the contemplative loner who fills it so well. Well, at least I do.

Read that sentence again, because I'm proud of it.

This could all easily be the sleep-deprivation talking. Since Tuesday morning, I've gotten all of six hours of sleep.

In fact, it must be the sleep deprivation talking, because only a moron would think that bragging about his lack of sleep made him sound like anything but a moron.

I choose not to get enough sleep yesterday, and I am tired and whiny today. This is my badge of honor.

Other recent, non-job events? Not really. I got flicked off by someone in a large white van, I went swimming last night at Larson's cabin with everyone, I just talked to Jamie this morning, I finished The Sound and The Fury and ordered some more books, and now I think I may go to sleep.

Anyways. There're plenty of jobs that'll demand much less of of me. I'm pretty sure this was the right decision.