Stop smiling! Slave...

So why is that I am quite happy with my meaningless role helping the herd with their fuel needs?

The first reason will come of no surprise to those who truely know me; I like working infact I love it, I'm not one of these whiners that complain about what shit they have to do as part of their job, I just get on with it with a song in my heart on a smile# on my face. Granted sitting on my arse is hardly what anyone could call working and it's a far cry from when I was labouring (which was proper work). The shallow exchange of jokes and slaggings with the customers is entertaining although not in itself enough to keep me there.

The solitude is a fantastic perk to the night-shift. The Garage has become a sanctuary, unlike my home which is more like a place of rest rather than contemplation. Except for tonight-Friday which affords me no time to myself. The other nights though give me at least three hours where I am alert enough to handle my heavier philosophy books but am reasonably uninterupted to get through them. The way I see it, at this rate I could do my entire bookshelf in a year. It is this that brings a smile to the face of the slave.