next verse, same as the first

Every morning I wake up, get dressed, and go to work. I squint in the sun and kick the sand around, just to watch it billow up and blow away. My boots look like they've been dipped in flour. At breakfast I look for the fruit that's fairly close to ripe, but not overripe. Usually I eat alone -- I'm in too much of a hurry to sit and chat -- trying to make out what's going on in the news. I get on the bus, put on my headphones, and try to keep the sun out of my eyes. No one talks on the bus in the mornings. My stop comes up, I get off, and walk the rest of the way. Eyes wide open, right hand empty, walking with a sense of purpose and giving proper military courtesy to those who pass me. Approach my building, open the bay door, slide down to my desk, sit down and log in. And do... nothing. All day.

On a really hot day I try to stay inside while the sun is out. On a windy day I try to stay inside while the winds are rough. Basically, the only good time to go outside is at night. No sun, no heat. Just don't try to look up at the stars -- you can see hardly anything because of the light pollution. Orion and Taurus come out in the middle of the night; winter is coming. Not sure what that means, though. I keep expecting it to at least rain, but day after day the sky is cloudless.

The last time I called the planetarium Bossman asked if I had settled in yet. My days all blur together. Day after day it's the same routine. Wash, rinse, repeat. At least my body is getting the chance to recover from all of the abuse known as mobilization training.

It could be much, much worse. Blondie's base gets mortared, Sweetheart leaves the wire everyday. I sit in an office.