James oscillated between dreams and being awake confused. He dreamt about his first job. A hot parking lot he attended to the shopping carts. Finding them strewn here and there. Only some people returning them to the lot, to the small area where people were supposed to return the carts. When he first started he did this haphazardly running around here, cleaning up one area then moving onto the next. Later he learned his bosses only really care about the stray carts during the day, those get damaged or cause damage, and the end of the day, when all the carts have to be accounted for. If James just did that they were happy and he could just relax.
His favorite part of the day was the end. The lot was drained of cars, and the only thing left was the carts. He'd first gather the strays, organizing and arranging them so they fit nicely in a stack. Then he'd take the whole stack, wheels loud and crashing, and bang that into another whole stack, nicely arranged for the next day.
He liked this chaos to order, everyday, chaos to order.
He felt similar that right now, but there was no order.
His favorite part of the day was the end. The lot was drained of cars, and the only thing left was the carts. He'd first gather the strays, organizing and arranging them so they fit nicely in a stack. Then he'd take the whole stack, wheels loud and crashing, and bang that into another whole stack, nicely arranged for the next day.
He liked this chaos to order, everyday, chaos to order.
He felt similar that right now, but there was no order.
