Merge Left

7:00 AM and the fifth snooze button. Jason had studied physics in high school, but couldn't seem to remember the lesson that explained why gravity was twice as strong when he was atop a mattress. He got - no, rolled - out of bed, knocking over a beer bottle from the night before. Time to shower; time to go to work.

Jason couldn't help but wonder if the 24 hour Old Spice really kept him smelling old and spicy for 24 hours. He'd have to ask the next girl he hugged, he thought to himself, water running down his face. He'd already been in the shower for at least 20 minutes, but the hot water heater always brought its a-game. Long ago Jason had come to terms with his addictions in negotiation when he decided, "Alright - you can stay. I'll just set my alarm an hour earlier than I need to so I can accommodate you, five snoozes, 30 minute shower." Sometimes surrender to your vices is freer than victory over them.

Today marked three years in construction for Jason. Accident prone it seemed his shift of holding the 'slow' sign for cars, had become longer than anyone else's. Jason saw the good in it: spending time outside, working with his hands, and getting to be around people. It wasn't all bad but every morning when he woke up he couldn't help but feel a little bit of sadness. He never woke up before his alarm went off, and he never got excited about his days.

"Oh that's okay Jason," he'd tell himself. "At least it is a job. It's not really that bad is it?" It wasn't. It's not as if he spent every singe day in misery. Some days were bad, and some days were alright. Construction wasnt his passion, but someone had to do it right? Otherwise there'd be no construction. He often would tell himself that when he had a wife and kids he would wake up every day excited to work so that their lives could be great. He'd pay for food, and eventually his kids could go to college. Work wasn't supposed to be fun. Work was work, and you just wake up in the morning and you do it.

He was out of the shower now. The hot water temporarily tattooed his skin red. Reminding himself not to think about things so philosophical while he was tired, he wiped the towel across the mirror and looked at himself in the eyes. "Yeah," he said, "work is just work." But a part of himself felt betrayed. Deep down he wondered if he was lying to himself. He knew in his heart that life was supposed to be something so much more.