This week I’m sharing poems from the first and last shift in a run of three nights. Closes are physically tiring, there’s a lot of moving crates of equipment and supplies around, as well as deconstructing the kitchen for deep cleaning, and all of this typically comes at the end of an 8-9 hour shift.
As you do several of these shifts in a row you get a build up of aches and pains, after three in a row I’m a wreck the next day.
Tired, aching, sore
A long shift, complaining body
Very sleepy Chris
Third close in three days
With no psychotic meltdown
I’ve earned my day off
Just reading this makes me wanna snuggle ya. Even though I know they’re from a while ago. <3