6am. 6:32am. 6:40am. 6:45am. 6:51am. 6:57am. 7:01am. 7:03am.
Those are the separate alarms I set each morning to get my tired and miserable self out of bed. Each alarm is met with a hand frantically reaching out from under the covers to silence the noise, desperate for a little extra time to relax. It didn’t always used to be this way. Throughout school I had no problem waking up at the intended time, shaking off any grogginess, and getting to class on time. Then again, back then, I didn’t work in hell.
Okay, hell is probably an exaggeration. I’m sure many many people have it far worse than me. But waking to go to a soul-draining job is not something that anyone should look forward to. At times, it feels as though I should have “office b****” stamped across my forehead the way my boss treats me. I am regularly asked to bring him papers from a printer that is approximately two feet from where he is standing, to refill his cups of water, and to laugh at his tired old jokes that he has repeated since the first day I began, about a year and a half ago (they weren’t funny the first time I heard them). Any task not met with the upmost enthusiasm requires a 20 minute closed-door meeting while he talks at me about professionalism.
So, I am dropping the proverbial mic and heading out west. Through a program called WWOOF, I will be given food and shelter in exchange for working on an organic farm farming dragon fruit in Hawaii. I have never farmed, I have never been to Hawaii, and I haven’t even tasted dragon fruit. I don’t know what to expect once I get out there but I do know it’ll be a welcome change from being an office b****. Farm b**** just has a better ring to it anyway.
