Back to the grind…
Work calls. I have to answer it and forget that I’m a human being with a life again, for a while. Depression.
I take care of the beautiful people that have been cast away from their own families, because their outer appearance or lack of comprehension somehow inhibits most of human kind to respect and treat them like another human being. Pity.
I get there and as usual, no one knows anything about what’s happened during the day or what’s going on. Mainly because their all too up each others asses looking for flaws and imperfections like a sad little curator looking for “The perfect painting" in homes built to shelter the imperfect, instead of doing their jobs. Sadness.
The higher ups even ask my opinions and input on peoples lives and ability to do their job. I’d just like to do mine and go home. Anymore I show up like the indentured servant I am to society, acting like the bad child in class begging not to be picked to answer in front of the classroom. Insecure solitude.
Someone else didn’t show up for this corrupt understaffed miniscule conglomerate of the socially and familial outcast. So it’s my job yet again to saddle up and take off from one home to another, to do their job whilst they scramble for yet another ass to take up space wearing the guise of a responsible person. I don’t even try to learn names anymore, they all fade in and out like teenage wet dreams. But it’s a job where I enjoy the people (clients I take care of, not the god awful staff) and get paid to create smiles and better wellness. Appreciative.
Today they’re going to go for a road trip. They don’t know it yet, but they’re always stuck at home, so they’ll love it. That should raise everyone’s spirits, if not at least I have Mrs. Sass and my boys waiting at home for me.
I never truly know how to end these things, so I’ll just leave you with that for now.