You Will Know What to Do When the Pigs Come

You will sit at your desk when the eye twitch starts to happen. There you will sit, working on the quarterly report, trying not to think of the camera's recording your every unconscious nose pick while you pretend the one hundred and seven eyes you employ have better things to do with their time then gaze at you to see if your hair today is parted in the middle or at an angle. Then, out of left field it goes. Squint. Squint. You will ask yourself, "Did I just do that?" And more important, did the camera's catch it? Has the team up in A control now labeled you as Popeye you will wonder as you have difficulty finding the auto center on your Word document. Then no longer able to trust your now spasming eye's depth perception, you click on every icon on your header the and your report will take twice as long to write as usual so by the time you step out of your office for the day your staff will have heard about you unmanageable facial tick and speculate on weather or not you have suffered a mild stroke or are just hitting whatever is in the bottle you have hidden in the second drawer of your desk. In the saliport you make eye contact as best you can with the guard in front command before you leave the facility, you will nod to on your way out and remind yourself to pitch the stretched out faded "lucky" purple leopard print panties that turned out not so lucky after that drunken tailgating incident, just encase tomarrow is the day you are picked for a strip search. Under your breath you practice saying, "Ya, I used to run every day but, with this job....my body..."
On your drive home as you wait in traffic with one hand clapt over your spastic eye, the conversation you had with your supervisor about the average times a corrections employee will be under investigation in a year will replay it's self then. "Times in a year" will echo through your head, as you try counting how often the neighbors dog has barked in the middle of the night, and wonder if the you should stop snow blowing around your home so foot prints are easier to disconcern.
Over dinner you will use your napkin much more often and remind your boys to chew with their mouth closed, cause if someone is taking notes, manners will be under the positive column thank you. "Wear pants dammit!", will be your mantra as you go from window to window compulsively closing what flimsy drapes you have. You will drag out the dark blue sheets and vacillate for half an hour about the tackiness of hanging them up all collage like but will decide against it due to drug dealer vibe hanging bed clothes emits.
When you finally sit down with your lap top you consider to stop blogging but then remember the name in your drivers licence is spelt different than what is on your site and you relax enough to watch a rerun of "Cops" of which you will take notes, rehersing phrases such as "I don't know who's that is!" and "Please Officer! Just this once!" Everyone on that program is arrested while wearing stained t-shirts and in dirty houses so you spend the rest of your night bleaching your laundry and scrubbing your kitchen. You will pick up your phone and dial your church to hang up before anyone answers just for the benefit of your phone record.You will fall asleep exhausted right before your alarm clock goes off the next morning, and you will not remember where you put the coffee last night, so you will spent 40 minutes rifling the contends of your newly organized cupboards and lose the shower time window so you will shuffle back into work with the worse bed head ever. Leaning against the garbage receptacle you fall asleep in the saliport, with the front command just on the other side of the Plexiglas. (At least your eye will not be twitching when it is closed.) When the sound of the steel doors open and wake you, you will be confused and not remember if you where coming or going.

You will be proud when you have the sense to e-mail your report to the warden instead of hand delivering it to avoid any awkward face-to twitchy face small talk. Smiling a smug little self satisfied smile you lean back, eye now at half mast and reach for your water bottle, in the second drawer, that is now sitting a quarter of an inch to the right of where you left it last.