Polycarp's Day

It is getting lighter earlier. I leave the house at six or ten past, and have been driving just about the full hour in total darkness. The earlier intimations of sunrise have actually been jarring; today was easier, greyness and light fog, a liminal hour between me and the day to come. Meanwhile, there have been series of commercials for the state lottery, showing people doing outrageous things at work: toll booth guy slams the gate arm down on a car hood repeatedly, supermarket cashier scans items while saying "rip off, rip off again, ninety-nine cents across the street..." and then up comes the text,
"When you win the lottery, how will you quit your job ?" Oh, the thought--- it was great, though, to see the people in Nebraska (it had to be the midwest !) win that huge jackpot, folks who could clearly really use it. I may have to buy a ticket one of these days.

In a training session the other day, they brought in more experienced people to share war stories with the newcomers, of which I am technically one. Predictably, they like what they do. When one guy said, "I just don't want to be one of those people who gets up in the morning and doesn't want to go to work," I wondered if I was blushing, twitching, smiling too hard, something that would blow my cover. I have a poker face and put much energy and time into my work, and this all leaves me spent. I remember loving what I did, I thought. I try to push it away, but my subconscious has burbled up in dreams lately after a year of not remembering any dreams. My legs ache, I sleep too little for all the work and my double life of trying to get back to my life on top of it. I dream combinations of now and then, and attempt to read, think and write in between, all the while trying to continue to bake cookies, go out and shop, play, love and live. I wonder if I am slowing down in spite of myself, should be pushing harder.

None of this has anything to do with poor Polycarp of Smyrna; it's just his day, and well, omnis canis suum diem habeat.