I just woke up, a little while ago, after a nap after supper. I put in an eleven hour shift, if you count the one hour I clock out for lunch. If not, that’s ten hours of work, but still it’s an eleven hour shift. The day leaves me both physically drained and emotionally charged. I am on my feet constantly during the company clock, and I use much upper body strength to move boxes of varying dimensions, sizes, and weights around. This leaves me rather well endowed physically, but for my midriff.

Tonight I’ve done sixty “flutter-kicks.” I forgot what we called them in the Army. Oh man. Am I developing Alzheimers, or is it the fatigue of my job, or the Prozac I take?

I want to say butterflys but that’s not it, is it?

Let me do some crunches to bring the number up to one hundred.

Ta da! O.K. Now all I’ve got left is six more days to say I have done this. And then I will start over again.