Well yeah, I am tired all the time, and most of the time I feel lost like a decapitated chicken, wondering what will come next, trying to stay organized across a two kitchen kingdom, trying to stay sane when I still continue to seek help after months of searching for the right candidate to help me build my imaginative plane of pastry domination.
Mornings are hard- every time the alarm sounds, I rationalize with myself that no, there is no way I need to work 15 hours again today, there is not that much work to be done. But the truth is, yes, there is. Mostly I rely on terror to get me out of bed- the fear of failure, the fear of running out of something, the fear of not being perfect every single moment of every day, the fear of somebody else being better at my goals.
As it turns out, there is a finite amount of coffee one person can drink.
As it turns out, you can keep working harder, tougher, and longer than you previously thought.
As it turns out, there will be more work created.
Nights are hard, when everyone else is clocked out, standing around drinking beer after beer, until they stumble home to their cozy couches, and I am still standing, still spinning ice cream, still silently building my army of penguin cookie soldiers, when I work so late into the night that I see the overnight cleaning crew come and start their day.
Bedtime is hard, when after a long shift I have to turn my over processed brain off and turn instead to chasing down the Sandman to give me sleep, to give me peace. Many times I lay there, lying to myself that I am asleep, pretending to match my breathing to the rhythms of dreams.