February 06, 2040 - 10:06
I took a nap on the covered look-out point at lunch. I woke up when an industrial vessel muscled through the water, and the lapping waves from the impact leapt up between the slats of my bed. I was reflexed to fight for my life during the first few moments of being doused, gasp and flail.
I am feeling oppressed by lunch break. For the stress of obtaining the food and eating the food in time, I rarely enjoy myself. I tell you, it's a gott dang racket.
As Elizabeth says at least 6 times per day, "There are not enough 0's in my pay check to do that, sweetie." I wish they called me sweet-sweet, not sweetie. Mine nerves are mine from the hours of noon-1.
I will find a way out of this turnstile.