Guilt in Good Morning Providence.

Listening to the song of a friend Spill my guts tell you everything Like how I've got it all but appreciate nothing -Malcom Middleton: "Loneliness Shines"

Bid your father a fond farewell. five minutes nine after morning exercise. . Along the way, Pull a solitary apple from the organic produce section at the local grocer's, then a bottle of Kombucha from the fourth aisle. See your French teacher from Freshman year in high school after fourteen years; avoid the inkling to strike up conversation. Small talk with the middle-aged man with highlighted hair and a leathery complexion. Arrive at work five after nine. The delay is endearing and in character, an early arrival is likewise charming in its own right.
Dally on the computer until you're called to the courthouse, To consummate the eviction process against defendants whose faces you've never seen. Make small talk with the court clerks, making slight grievances regarding the weather and discussing what you did on the Fourth of July. File writs, memos, and new cases, against a Mexican food restaurant where you once dined as a kid.
Return to the office, where you continue to dally at the computer, waiting for the next assignment. Receive the slip that reminds you of the cities where the evictions are held, and insert the data into the computer.
Exhaust responsibilities where you can until the last few runners come pouring into the office. Enter values, case numbers, swearing at the incompetent printer for using letter-sized paper where you requested legal.
Highlight, document, then drive.