I've worked 25 of the last 27 days. About 93 percent. I'm tired. I have nothing to say. The Monday through Friday crowd work 5 out of 7 or about 71 percent. I believe this is closer to the ideal because the body and mind tire and have trouble recovering without regular days of rest.

I was always the kid who when he first got a new toy played with it until he broke it or fell asleep with it in his lap. I was always the teenager who played sports hard and fast, only to be slumped over, hands on knees huffing and puffing moments later.

Now I'm the adult who works himself to exhaustion. And then complains about it semi-privately in his blog.

I just can't justify a day without making money. I have no woman, no family, few friends outside of work. I don't even enjoy my hobbies all that much. A day off is cutting a loss--less value than a work day. Quality time is monetary time. Not because I value money over human interaction, love, or pleasure. But because I find little pleasure, human interaction or love on my days off. They are days spent diddling uselessly around the house. I watch movies but consider artful discussion of their merits wasteful. I play video games but never for more than a half hour at a time, never long enough or concentrated enough to become an expert. I read books haphazardly, sometimes voraciously , sometimes not at all.

I know that starting mid-May there will be few days that I don't arise early and trudge to work. It is likely that I'll break my record of 42 consecutive days from last year. That prideful accomplishment. The only trophy for someone who gains no enjoyment on his own time.