Thirty-one

The number of days I have worked without a day off. One month, and not a short month like February.

After 31 days of work without a day off you wake up tired and feel like going back to sleep after breakfast. Noises seem louder and more startling, and sounds you wouldn’t normally notice are like nails on a chalk board. Telephone conversations are hard to follow and quickly become aggravating. Food doesn’t taste good anymore, especially when you eat at the same restaurant every night because the only other restaurant open for business in town apparently induces vomiting.

Tomorrow afternoon that dusty road leads me at last to Fort St. John and a flight home.

Thirty-two.