It’s not, actually. It’s 6:52 in the morning, the beginning of February.
But why be picky?

And the reason I’m awake at this ungodly hour (and have been, truth be told, for over an hour now) is that I’ve been on guard duty yesterday and last night.
“Guard duty” doesn’t really describe it, though. “Guard duty” carries the connotations (to me at least) of heavily-padded green-wearing half-freezing bored-out-of-their-wits soldiers stuck in godforsaken shitholes waiting for the relief to come.

This is a new image for me. Up until a few years ago, the mental imagery accompanying “guard duty” for me was a Roman legionary standing on a wooden guard-tower overlooking a rebellious Gaul village, waiting for the relief to come. But that’s beside the point.

The point is…
The point IS…
Damn. I lost the point.

Oh, there it is.

The point IS, my guard duty these days, now that I have passed the 3 years of mandatory military service (And an additional 6 months for good behaviour!), my so-called guard duty consists of wandering aimlessly through bits of my base that don’t have anything to do with me and occasionally signing something.

My schedule included things like this:

Morning: Get debriefed. 15 minutes where I’m told things which aren’t important, I’ve already known, or both.
Noon: Spend an hour in the Mess hall, telling people to fill up tables and clean up after them. Do you feel the country’s security increasing yet?
Night: Glance blearily at guards. Ask them if everything OK. They say yes, Go to sleep all through my shift.

There’s no arguing with that thrill of accomplishment from this duty. The job satisfaction. Really makes you feel good about your workplace.

*sigh*

Okay. No more whining. The hour is too silly.