Michael R. Barrick

My brain is fried. I didn't get enough sleep last night (my fault) and now I can't concentrate and everything is bugging me. I'm looking at a bunch of numbers trying to figure out why totals on some sales reports don't match and I don't give a shit about it. This is way, way too dry. My enthusiasm for this job is a low point just now. I like this city, but I'm not sure spending eight hours a day in this pen cubicle is worth it. Things are going absolutely nowhere with Ivana and I have no prospects. So all I have here is the scenery, a nice apartment I have no time to enjoy, and an uncomforable chair in a cubicle. Maybe if I had someone to come home to give me a reason to suffer this bovine existence...

This morning was my first Monday morning in years. It wasn't so bad. I had planned to walk in to work thinking that it would go a long way toward waking me up and getting started. Well, it didn't happen. When the brutal reality of the morning presented itself I found that a little extra sleep was more important so I ended up driving in. I think I will make that part of my routine. I drive on Mondays so that I getting to bed a bit late because of Sanctuary doesn't get in the way. It's all about priorities.

Nice bloody morning. This whole "regular hours" thing is going to be an adjustment. I feel like I have jet-lag. I forgot to turn on my alarm for the second time this week. The first time was my first day. By sheer fluke I managed to wake up on time that day, but no such luck today. I rolled over and saw to my horror that it was 7:45. As it turns out my boss rolled in an hour and half late and one of my co-workers isn't even here yet thanks to the escalation of the transit strike.