Plodding along

When January was slowly turning into February I sometimes had a feeling similar to one during those shifts with unpredictable finish times. One goes on with his job having no idea whether the magical words “That’s us done” will come within fifteen minutes or five hours.

Except that during those shifts one knows that, sooner or later, the words will come, and has a more or less clear idea about what will follow. Now I had no notion not only when, but even what would happen. Win in lottery? Landing a good job? Landing some job? Ending up on the street? Deportation? Suicide?

So I was just plodding along.

 

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