Bombers and closing shift

So I sit here experiencing a mediocre world and a near perfect world on the other hand. I mean I am watching a 2002 era Ms. Spears dance on mute while jamming Stankonia. She is quite the fetching gal but the knowledge of what was to come for that little belle just predictably stops it short of the best of both worlds. So I thought of like 7 ideas of what I could write tonight, don’t worry I wrote them down. I also day dreamed of how sweet this all would be if it worked out. But what am I going to write about today? I work the closing shift at the bakery/restaurant that employs my services; I work it every day I step into that hotspot for Silicon Valley slaves and retired bored persons of all general kinds. Such is the life of a college student, and I love it. Closing shift is something I would of avoided earlier but now that I have worked it 3 weeks straight, my conscious nor limbs could handle the separation. I liken it and it took me a while to analyze it enough to the point of semblance of another lifestyle but I finally did, it is like a Bomber crew in WW2. How so you ask? Those bomber crews lived a dual life, when the southern major was sitting on his field somewhere in the picturesque country side of Britain he could sip all the mint juleps he could put down. But the next day he could step out of his B-52 fortress into the sky thick enough with German flak and walk home. Yes my closing shift is like this. Some days what a piece of cake or bread pudding which I can steal for you if you ask. Other days I am running with 22lbs of left over bread on my back hoping around the corner Vanessa didn’t just mop. I got no complaints right now. I could come up with a million in those “flak filled” moments but these are the cards that are dealt for us fearless employees slaving out the waning hours of the fiscal day. All I can hope for is that if I were to ever get a date with a girl, laying out plainly that “if” is intentionally there. I’ll be sipping my julep instead of losing two limbs to ack-ack the enemy of 11:30-7:30 can aim at me.