This is going to be fun.

I got maybe five hours of sleep last night.

Now I get to drive a truck.

Joy.

Gads.

So, after not sleeping well last night, I do 250 miles in a truck that isn't mine (mine's in the shop) going all over the damn place, dealing with an entire site that doesn't speak English.. not even the foreman! Have to listen to the Giants suck - AGAIN, and in general feel like shit every mile. My eyes are so bloodshot, I'm amazed I wasn't hauled in for a drug test.

But all that was nothing. All that was a prelude to what happened at my penultimate stop (no map, I'm too tired, but for those who know the area, today was Milpitas, Milpitas, Pleasanton, Tracy out by I-5, the eastern edge of Modesto, Stockton, Brentwood, Antioch, back east on 4 to Vasco Rd and down to Livermore, two stops there which is where we pick up the story.)

I was waiting for my order to be wrapped and loaded, when the Nextel rang. This was about about 1430, I had never taken lunch, so I had been working for close to nine straight hours. The DC was from Purchasing, and they wanted to know if I could go back to Brentwood for another pickup.

40 minutes (minimum) to get there.
About the same to get back to where I was at the moment.
Another 30 minutes to my last pick-up in Milpitas.
10 minutes back to the warehouse.

Another two freaking hours!!!!

Needless to say, I said hell no.

And so to bed.