Today calls for wine before 10:00 am. Wine and a nice old fashion cup of coffee. Old fashion due to the lack of flavored creamer.

My laptop broke. So here I am with my netbook. It is fine and dandy but the keyboard is a bit tight. I could go down to the basement and use the desktop PC, but no I will not. I believe there is a gremlin that lives in the furnace and thrives on eating overtired winos so no, I shant.

The man says two more months of graveyard is all he can take. So of course the idea of about five more months would be good came to mind. He then looked at me and said "I hope your not thinking two months actually means six." I said "OF COURSE I AM NOT! WHAT YOU THINK WORK IS SOME SORT OF PICNIC?" (which it is not although some times it does resemble a pot luck) He said "I am sorry, I know that it has been just as hard on you." I said "Well it has,just remember I am not going to some damn party. I am going to work." Then I exited to have a smoke and to ponder how I can extend my night job any longer.

I need not be so selfish. I know, I know, but there I am me. The me that is separate from the "us" in this house. I am no ones mother at work. My name is not mom. My name is Bea and I am just some lady that likes to laugh it up.

I tell stories that the man has already heard too many times, or even the ones that he unknowingly stars in. I tell stories about life before being the mother earth. You know the stories your significant other just doesn't want to here. You know I was a virgin when I met the man, didn't you. Oh yes, yes I was. Just like mother Teresa, wouldn't you know. All my babies before the man were immaculate conception. Their daddy is Jesus.

Oh at work people appreciate me and not because I am in charge of their meals and happiness. I don't have to wash all of the towels to get appreciate. All I have to do is show up with a few stories and complaints.

Its not all cake, uuummm cake. It is a job that is leaving me over tired and light sensitive. The afternoon sun rips threw my corneas and I have made it an art to match my eyeshadow to my large purple under eye rings. It's a little goth, but I work at night so I don't think I should look to peppy.

So there you have it. My night life will be coming to an end irregardless if it is two or six months. Oh well it was fun while it lasted... I better go I have to do some laundry, make some luch for my six year old who had surgery last week, clean my room, call about my student loan, call the dr, call the bank, defrost dinner, take a shower, take a nap, yell at the kids, make sure chores are done, and wait by the door for the man.