I think about work for about the last half of my "free" time before I have to go. I think, "it'll go by pretty quickly today," and I think, "it'll go pretty slowly today." I just get so torn, because it's some sort of inner struggle between getting amped for a quick evening at work, or setting myself up for a gruelling night of labor. And then... Halfway through the night I want to die because it's not going by fast enough, or I'm just bored with what I'm doing. And then... When the damn shift's over, I sit there in my car driving home admitting to myself that this past night went by quite quickly and can endure these more often. I hate me. I can't make up my mind, and when I do, 2 seconds later I have another alternative or reason things are fucked up. But hey, 40 hours means one less week I have to work at that shitstink of a job.