The last day. The very last day of six weeks of nightshift. After last night, I went home and was only able to get about five hours of sleep before I was simply lying awake. Blame it on the long holiday weekend, where I tried to stay awake during the daytime in order to socialize with my family. Then I had to switch back to nights for only two shifts. If only management had decided to have the shifts switch over the holiday, the change might have been easier on all involved.
However, here I am a bit sleep deprived and anxious to go home. I’m watching two different systems and planned out my night so I don’t forget anything as I slowly lose my cognitive faculties. At 18:00, I started going down my list: making my walk through, taking samples, doing feed checks. Trying my best to keep busy and pass the time quickly. I decided to sit down for a moment and I look at the clock…21:36. Are you serious? Has it only been three and a half hours?
It certainly didn’t help that I was blasted in the face with a bunch of oats and dust due to an unintentional placement of a pudding pan near an air valve at about 21:00. I’ve spent a majority of the night feeling itchy. Each agonizing minute has ticked by painfully slow. My list of things to accomplish has been whittled down to a single item. I still have hours before me.
A shower and a warm bed with clean sheets would be perfect, but I’ll probably be set to crash as soon as I walk in my front door. There’ll be no one to comment that I smell like buttery baked goods anyway. Except the cat, but as long as he doesn’t start licking me, we’ll be okay.