Dear diary,
Thank goodness it’s Friday. I labor five days a week, starting on Monday, so today is my last day until the cycle restarts.
Now comes the weekend: Saturday and Sunday. I love my weekend because it’s relaxing. After a whole five days of work, it’s nice to have some time off, to spend with my family. Friday night is the best, because I can enjoy the thought of two full days off ahead. Every weeknight, after my shift ends at 5 pm, I come home and drink a few beers: not a lot, because I must wake up in the morning early enough to get to work by 9 am. But tonight—Friday—I allow myself to indulge more than usual, because I don’t need to awake early tomorrow.
On Saturday, after sleeping late, my dog wakes me up, and I have brunch with my wife and kids; then I mow the lawn. After that, if there are any enjoyable events happening in town, like an automobile show or yard sales, I attend them; otherwise, I just take it easy. I set up my lawn chair in my garage and sit facing the road. If my neighbor across the street comes out of his house, I raise my hand and wave to him.
On Saturday evening, we either invite over a few of my buddies from work to grill meat in our backyard, or else I’ll go and grill out at one of their houses. If there is a football game on, we’ll watch that. Sometimes, someone will come across tickets to see a game in person, but that would be a special occasion; usually we just watch the game on TV. If my son or daughter has a sporting event scheduled, we will attend that, and if it occurs at the same time as a professional game, then I’ll bring along my portable radio to listen to the pro game while I watch the kids play. Usually the school’s sports leagues are pretty good about avoiding such scheduling conflicts; most of the people who organize the children’s leagues are fans of professional sports themselves.
On Sunday morning, we go to church as a family. That’s why Saturday night is slightly less fun than Friday night: on Saturday, you begin to worry about there being only a single day remaining of the weekend; plus you know that you’ve got to get up early for church. But we are believers, and by the time the church service is over, I never regret that I went. It makes me feel like my soul is washed clean. Then the rest of Sunday I spend resting: it’s the day of rest, after all. I read the newspaper, and if there’s a football game on, I watch that. Sometimes I’ll go out and tinker around in the garage. Or I’ll sit facing the street in my chair. Then, when the evening comes, I go to bed early, because tomorrow is a work day.
On Monday I rise at 6 am because I must be out the door by 7:30. I have a half-hour drive to work. It takes me an hour to shower, shave, dress, and eat breakfast; then I spend thirty minutes reading the paper. After kissing the wife and waving goodbye to the kids, I get into my truck. Then I’m off to work.
I take Highway 77 all the way. There are always police cars parked in strategic places, waiting to catch some unsuspecting person driving too fast. But I have never gotten a ticket, because I’m careful: I never go more than ten miles over the speed limit.
I work at the largest coffee plant in Columbia. I’m in charge of every step of the manufacturing process. I plant the seeds by hand, which requires me to dig in the soil. Then I wait for the trees to grow. Once their cherries are ripe red, I pick them. Then I dry them and hull them. At this point, I take the first of my fifteen-minute smoke breaks. I sit in the back room with my co-workers, and we talk about politics.
When I return from break, the red cherries will have become beans, and their color will have changed to green. I must gather all these beans by hand and roast them, paying close attention to the time and temperature. This roasting process turns the beans brown and makes them flavorful. I then go take my meal break.
My wife packs my lunchbox with a sandwich and an apple. The sandwich is made of sliced bread, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and anchovies. I drink water from a canteen; then I stand up and head back to my station when the breaktime buzzer buzzes. “Return to work,” announces an authoritative voice, over the loudspeaker.
The last part of my shift consists of grinding the beans that I roasted earlier. Then I take my second fifteen-minute smoke break; and when I return from that, I use hot water to extract the flavor from the ground coffee. This creates the final beverage. I then punch my time card, get in my truck, and hasten home.
My wife is always waiting for me with the children at the dinner table, when I enter the house. She has prepared a whole bird for us to eat. I use the carving knife to distribute cuts of the meat; then we bow our heads and pray, thanking God for this meal.
My daughter sings us the song that she learned at school today, and my son shows us the picture of the turtle that he drew. Both of my children are very young. I do not recall their exact ages.
Our whole family then spends the remainder of the night watching the latest episodes of our favorite TV shows together: first, Dallas, then Dynasty, followed by Knots Landing. My mentioning of these programs is not a recommendation; I am only telling the truth about my family’s daily habit. I wish I could say that we spend our time reading the Bible.
Once we finish putting our kids to bed, the wife and I then climb into our own bed, and we all sleep soundly.
No comments:
Post a Comment