I walk out, exhausted and drenched in sweat. My hair is plastered to my face. The night air feels like heaven. My feet ache and my body threatens to give out before I reach my car.
We all laugh, the guy in dish finally fell after nights of sliding around on the floor thinking he's a bad ass. All of our eyes reflect the exhaustion, yet are bright and happy. Our arms, uniquely chiseled. Our legs never restless late at night.
The drive home is agony, a boring end to a long day. Energy pumps through my veins, as exhaustion fights it.
The first beer tastes like perfection. Sweatpants feel like luxury.
I may be ready to collapse, but, fuck, I love my life.
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1 comment:
I love this. I was never a chef, just a bartender and waitress, but this brings back many wonderful memories. :)
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