It's been a while.
I can't say that I miss it, if only because I haven't time to miss being online. I work now. It is menial, manual labor, but I've come to love it.
I wake to the moon still hanging in the sky and pot of black coffee that could kill a horse. This is my only time to be clean and cool, for hereafter I don hole-ridden clothes and leave to whichever house I'm renovating today. The others have begun their day much the same. Some are still toting a thermos of coffee.
We exchange greetings, gruff murmurs of acknowledgement that serve to test each other's resolve to make it through the day. Everyone here is brethren. We have shed blood and sweat together, which is more than can be said of most family. It is my duty to fix walls, ceilings, and floors. The day will be spent behind my loyal saw and knife, tools of the trade. Come noon I will emerge from work, cloaked in a second skin of asbestos powder and wood dust, to join everyone at the water spicket. There is no cooler, no break room. If we are hot, or dirty, or thirsty, there is only the water spicket. From this we draw our wash water and our drinking water. It tastes of copper, but it's cold. Everyone rejoices in its presence.
We exchange stories as we stand about stripping away the mud until only tan skin is left. The older ones in the group share tales on friends, family, and fights. Jokes are made, followed up by jocular challenges.
We'll split ways for a short time to get food, but inevitably return.
Greetings again, joking, and tired affirmations of duty.
Back to work.
Time is money and I cannot afford to waste either. Each payment, each bit of earnings brings me closer to another year of education. Today the cheque goes for food. Tomorrow for clothes that can be worn somewhere other than work. The day after, perhaps, for my tuition.
I miss being online to chat with friends and waste away the nights, but c'est la vie.

~ Yours truly,
The demon-zombie construction worker