ELO knew what they were talking about.

Going back to work after almost two weeks off has been, in short, dreadful. In long, it’s been so hideous I am thinking about quitting and collecting the dole so I can sleep out my days until at least 11 and then get up to only watch Judge Judy and eat pancakes. It’s not the work itself that’s so horrible, or the people I work with, it’s just the going to work every day at what seems like the butt-crack of dawn that is bothering me.

I get up, shower, eat breakfast (although this week I forgot to make my eggs so there has been no breakfast which means even if you inject rainbows into my brain with a candy straw I still won’t be friendly until after lunch), watch 15 minute of horrible morning television, do hair, get dressed and then head off into the dark to the train station. And then I work for 8 hours and at the end of the day I go home in the dark. And I have discovered that living at 53° 20′ 49.92″ N and being gainfully employed means YOU WILL NOT SEE THE SUN FOR MANY, MANY MONTHS. Today the sun is setting in Dublin at 4:27pm and I am deeply considering pressing my face hard against the glass in the copy room because the copy room has a nice window that looks out into the city, and my window looks out onto a brick wall four feet away.

As I complain about this to coworkers, Bub, MIL, people on the phone, strangers on the street, etc., they all say, "Liz, you have lived here for how long? How do you not know that the sun comes up and then about four minutes later goes down? And within those four minutes it’s probably raining? This isn’t Baker Island for Christ sake." And then I cry and stick a flashlight in my eyes for sweet relief. It’s like living in Syracuse all over again but without the obnoxious mascot that would trick us into thinking it was the sun. A smiling, friendly, sun with a hat on.

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Liz in Dublin