The Night Shift

The Tee-Tiny Kitchen is quiet today.Its refrigerator, pantry, and freezer are full of good things to eat, if only I had the will to use them. But I am suffering from what the world calls "jet lag" , and what I call "Night Rot'. Firemen, policemen, EMTs, nurses, ER doctors, grocery store stockers, taxi drivers,Mini mart clerks- they all know what I mean. It is the curse of nights. Procrastination. Apathy. It does not matter that I could cook calves liver and onions in the Venetian style. All I want is a French Bread pizza. I will settle for a grilled cheese sandwich.

Years ago I remember looking across the ICU nurses' desk at a nurse named Gary gray-faced and slumped in his chair. "Jesus", he said, Now I know what it feels like to be dead".

Night Rot means always having to say you're sorry. That the mini-blinds have an inch of dust. That you forgot to set the alarm and missed an afternoon matinee with a friend. That the beagle peed the rug, and you didn't find it till the stain had gone beyond Oxy-clean. A friend with a colorful youth once told me that working nights was like like taking drugs- one always had great plans that always came to nothing. And every night a city full of people will feel like this. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. I will clean the apartment and reward myself with a trip to McKay's Used Books. But now - I want more coffee. And something to eat. How about Boursin spread on toast? Oh wait- I ate that when I came home this morning. No matter. I would eat Spam if I had a can -