I had a tough decision to make this morning. Which tee shirt to wear to work. I have plenty of just plain tee's but today I felt like making some kind of statement. At times we have upper management coming through our line so we have to be somewhat respectable about what we wear. I had already worn the "I'm really excited to be here shirt" and had some sarcastic comments on it. I figured the Betty Ford or I hear Voices shirts wouldn't be a good choice either. The newly purchased Bong shirt wasn't going to fly as I didn't want it getting all full of crap from work. I made my decision when I saw it hanging in the closet. I would wear my "Miller Lite" shirt. I'm already being accused of being an drinker so why not let more rumors fly. One of the first comments made by my co-worker friend was "Crap, you know we have to work 12 hours...what were you thinking dangling that in every one's face". From the departing 3rd shifters I heard "That's where we are headed". Through out the day as I looked in the mirror in the rest room I sighed when seeing the reflection of my shirt. I actually thought about calling home and having the hubbie meet me for a beer because I knew if I went home first I'd stay there. This plan seemed to be rolling until the last two hours of work when everything kind of went to hell. We were short one person and running a new part of the line.
The three of us took a break around 5 and headed out to the picnic table outside. Never has a picnic table bench looked so inviting to me. As we were sitting there I kept imagining myself just laying down on the bench and going to sleep. My body wanted to, but my stupid brain got the best of me and forced me back into an upright position chugging in for the last two hours.
The ride home was pretty smooth until the Hale where Mr. Sheriff was standing outside his car with his radar gun. Like STB's post, one should never hit the brakes, just take your foot off the gas. Well the chain reaction started with the first guy and caused a little bit of a traffic jam. I made a hasty exit one ramp early without incident.
Upon my arrival home I prayed I wouldn't enter the house and find my husband sleeping. That might have been the last straw in my week. Instead I found him watching tv on the porch and after a quick hello and a quick entrance to the house to get my shoes off I saw that the nice guy had actually cooked a dinner. Not a casserole or burger...but chicken breasts, potato's and corn. A real dinner. Either I am really loved or the poor guy was just plain sick of his wife not cooking. I think I shall now go join him on the porch with a beer.