A few days ago, I awoke before my alarm. I rose slightly startled. I sat in the middle of my bed, confused. Again, another morning where I woke not knowing where I needed to be or what time I needed to there. This was probably the third day in a row. It angered me.
I then remembered I had at least 3 more hours before I had to get up for work. It was too late, I was already wound up.
I laid across the bed and did the math. I factored my free time vs. my work hours. I factored in how my energy level and fatigue affected my "days off." Days off?
My LIFE had been reduced to "days off." That's when I realized for the price of my very modest salary, I was owned. I was property of my employer.
Something's gotta give. I called Michelle. I screamed "Fuck dis shit!" in the Popeye's parking lot.