... and slot machine bells and cigarettes and cigar smoke. I got home from a Friday night/Saturday morning at Job #2, washed my face, brushed AND FLOSSED (that's so important) my teeth and collapsed on my bed with my loyal laptop. No shower; it doesn't seem worth the effort. As usual, it's going to take a little while for my ears to stop ringing and for the illusions of colors to stop flashing before my eyes.
As I mentioned in my previous post, I had thoughts yesterday/today regarding my 10-day countdown to my NYC relocation, but I ended up packing more stuff into my Friday than I had planned between editing a 30-plus page draft of a training manual I am creating for whoever assumes my job at the university, the beginning stages of cleaning out my office, trying to catch up on some paperwork, and beverage serving at the casino. Had to reiterate the beverage service in there as it was the most important and influential part of my day - the thousands of lives I touch, the sheer volume of thirst I quench. The magnitude of what I provide to unbridled gamblers in Western North Carolina is truly ... yea ok, I'm starting to annoy myself.
Anyway ... reflecting on the thoughts surrounding my final days in Cullowhee, I just don't remember exactly what they were anymore. Yesterday/today was such a hectic blur, but I am sure my thoughts were deeply profound and unnecessarily redundant.
What a clever play on words – in an Andy Kauffman kind of way. It’s really just exhaustion talking. Exhaustion, meet July 22. July 22, meet exhaustion. And both of you, this is Sleep.