my first hangover should have been more of a deterrent from heavy drinking than a sign that i need to adapt to my new lifestyle. i’ve always been stubborn like that. never learning the right lessons. trying to outsmart the system.
i spent most of the morning complaining to my roommate about having to work that night. i made the hours so i waited until it was dark. the light hurt my eyes. songs i used to find soothing were painful to listen to. it was not going to be a fun night.
i worked as the sole janitor of three story office building in minnetonka. most of the building was empty during my shift so i was able to do whatever i wanted. i could clean rooms in whatever order i wanted. that’s if i cleaned them at all.
many of the offices had snacks and coffee in their break rooms. i helped myself to these perks on a daily basis. sometimes i would find where they hide the overflow. those were my favorite rooms.
one of the offices on the third floor threw out a bunch of furniture once. i brought it to my closet on the third floor and made myself a small office. i didn’t need an office. but it was nice to have a place to sit while i inflated my time card.
being a janitor was the perfect job for me. at the time, at least. though i wouldn’t mind doing it again if it paid better. it allowed me the alone time i craved. my work day was around eight hours if you included the commute. i spent most of time listening to music and podcast, but i also wrote.
being alone meant there was no one there to tell me to stop talking to myself. some days were more challenging, but the freedom of being my own boss usually made up for it.