Day 371 or Work

Somedays I love to work.

I'm not going to lie, somedays the last thing I want to do is work. Sometimes it's seven in the morning, I'm leaning against the counter watching bleary-eyed as people shuffle in like zombies from a bad b movie, complete with moans as they scoop up their breakfast. I think longingly of the bed down stairs and how I'd much rather be sleeping then watching people stare blankely at the food, their brains to tired to figure out what they want or even why they're there.

Other days, like today, I'm working hard to clean the glass doors, spraying and wiping, the paper towels turning as black as the road outside and yet the streaks still remain. Chuck walks by and comments that I should use newspaper. I decide to take him up on his offer and spend the next little while on a search for papers, which I was successful in.

Spraying down the door and wiping, the difference is clear, quite literally actually.
I've got my iPod, my musics playing, the doors are getting clean. I'm on such a roll, I nearly forget about break. When I'm done, I do the other doors on the other side. I'm so overcome by this breakthrough in cleanleness that I trek upstairs, attacking the glass upstairs.

I quite happy wiped away till I realized I had run out of paper and was forced to stop. A short break, then begin work in the dining room.

I don't always like to work, but sometimes there is nothing quite as satisfying.