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16 April 2020 - 00:37

I can hear David Carpenter bitching about emails to no one in particular from his office next door. I smile to myself. The sound is oddly comforting after my long day here at work. My face mask is soaked in sweat and smells like ass. I let it dangle from one ear, refusing to wear it. Technically, I'm more than six feet away from Rafa or David or Norbie, so I should be good. Outside, Roberta and Enrique milk it. Surreptitiously. Me? I'm done. Both mentally and physically. I punched out before starting this entry, and I wasn't even going to update at all, but then I heard David's voice, and felt nostalgic. It's been years since I worked out of this office late into the night to where I would hang out for a bit with my Preload buddies. Before Norbie, even. Back then, it was good ol' Joe Cuevas who would fix my hours because the Local Sort supervisors had left long ago. I'd ask Norbie to fix mine now before I go, but David's calling instructions out to him; I know he's busy.

Anyhow, so much for me being done mentally, huh? Still, I digress. I'll probably be coming in to work early tomorrow as well, and I need to get home to shower and [try to] sleep.

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