One Last Uniform

When I opened my wardrobe this morning, ready to change up to go to work, I found but one set of uniform. One *last* set of uniform.

It's like how addicts or workaholics 'wake up' one day to find themselves in a situation that has completely spun out of control, and are subsequently so shocked that they resolve to begin anew. They painfully try to distance themselves from the bad habits they have come to cultivate, and resolve to do what's right instead of what's convenient. I guess it's about time for me too.

You see, the past two weeks or so have been outrageously decadent, in retrospect. I cannot remember how it exactly began, but I suspect it started when discipline at work commenced its downward slide. As two of my colleagues entered the final phase of their NS life, or 'ORD Mood', the entire office seemed plagued with a certain lethargy and complacency.

The Mood's highly infectious. There's no way, in my opinion, a NSF can continue his work dilligently when his colleagues are Mooding. When the guy next to you at work talks about clearing leave, preparing for University, relinquishing work to understudies and going for holidays, your grip on a healthy work philosophy slips.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but yes, I've been guilty of it. I've stayed up way too late (thus diminishing my alertness and enthusiasm at work), procrastinated just about everything you can possible procrastinate (my blog, the mountain of fan mail I've not replied) and basically just lived from day to day, "chasing down every single temporary high". It didn't help that work's been particularly heavy, such that when the day is done I am so completely sapped of spirit that I lack the will to do anything at all.

Things hit rock bottom when I found that I had only had one last set of uniform in my wardrobe. Where was the meticulous packing and maintenance of my personal upkeep? How could I, a full-time soldier, end up with only one stupid uniform in camp?

Shameful. =(