It was only eight stinkin' hours. It's not like I ran a marathon. I worked a normal, 8-hour shift. It's not a big deal to those that do it every day, but it's my first in 7 weeks. And I felt good. I didn't push and worry and think I'd never make it. I did fine.
At one point, I looked at coworker Michelle and said, "I feel really good today. I feel like a wise-ass again!" She shook her head, smiled, and said, "You sound like one, too."
It was good to feel good. Now I'm wiped out. Done. Cooked.
Goodnight. I want to do this four more times this week. If that's going to happen I need to go to bed.