J. Palmer

I’m tired of being tired.

Tired.

Really don’t wanna be at work, but I’m here.

Yay.

Went to Morehead. Got an AM/FM radio at the Peddlers Mall.

Ugh. I’m tired. But I’m always tired.

The social hour always seems to bug me when I’m walking into the breakroom before the meeting. I’m not sure why it bothers me, but for some reason hearing the goofy laughter and commentary over whatever the latest stupid thing someone saw on whatever social platform bugs me.

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything; so much for trying to get back in the habit of journaling regularly.

My almost nightly writing kind of died off because of a change in things at work. I had been able to spend a stupid amount of time before work to do a little bit of writing–with the clocking in a tad early, waiting for the meeting, and writing just a little bit more during the meeting. At some point, someone caught on that we were wasting a ton of time and money, and we were finally instructed not to clock in until our scheduled start of shift, and meetings started firing off just a little bit earlier. I can’t complain about that, because, duh, they were throwing money out the window; unfortunately, my journaling before work died.

I guess maybe I should try to start keeping up with my writing efforts on my lunch break.