Sweat-stained wretch

I am entering day 4 of my 10 straight days of work. So far, so good. My attitude remains high, my sarcasm level low, and I haven't thrown a single thing.

But it's only four days. And since I'm entering uncharted territory, I really don't know how I will feel or react by the end of 10 days. All I know is that I'll be working away in the sweat shop every SINGLE day until Monday, and there is a good chance that I will slowly fade into dust and they will carry me out with a broom and a bin. ..........

Ah, that's happy, isn't it?

We need some cards to lighten the mood. So, here is a representation of my progress through my relentless work schedule. You'll note that each card depicts a sweating player. That's because they're working, silly.

Here we have a guy who has been working maybe two straight days. Getting out in the sun and enjoying some physical activity feels good. It feels American. What's the big deal, right? Toss the rock around, get some hacks in. That's good stuff right there. U-S-A!

OK, this is about Day 4. Still looking good, still smiling. You're still able to enjoy a pleasant chat with your co-workers, although the jokes may have a bit of an edge to them. But you've had your first encounter with your boss. Those rarely go well. What? I have a little something on the right side of my head? Uh-oh, that's not a good sign.

This will be me around Wednesday or Thursday. Day 6 and 7. Ted looks like he's just trying to GET. THROUGH. IT. He's functioning, but in a "going-through-the-motions" way. Just give me the damn ball, buddy, OK? And look at all that sweat in the neck folds -- this guy really needs a day off.

Finally, this is me around Sunday. Vacant stare, sweat still streaming down my face, sweat traveling over hardened sweat from days past. Stupid good-job stars on my head. Where am I? What day is this? My co-workers will try to decipher my incoherent babble, that is when they're not wondering if the sounds I'm emitting are even human.

Thanks for traveling with me through my hell week. All I'm looking for is a little sympathy. OK, maybe a little pity, too.