Bachin' It/The Experiment Ends

I won't be working any more night shifts for the foreseeable future.
Which is really too bad, as I have enjoyed them immensely. There's a sense of importance that washes over you at three in the morning, as if it falls upon you to bring the sunrise. What's more, I was able to get vast amounts of work done, much more than I've ever managed in daylight. No customers will do that.
So why are there no nights in my future? Not through any fault of mine, believe me.
We had a sizeable theft last Tuesday night. I was there at the time, busy like a little beaver in my dairy aisle, while this was going on at the other end of the store. Didn't see or hear a thing. Two of my fellow workers were caught on tape and summarily fired and charged. (I know you're supposed to say 'allegedly' in cases like this, at least until the suspects are convicted, but the camera tells no lies.)
Rumours of additional hanky-panky concerning still other members of the night crew forced my boss's hand. No more nights. Which really bites. (Hey, Ken, you're a poet and you don't know it...your feet show it, they're Longfellows.)
So now I'm not back to work until Monday morning. Eva's up at her best friend's cottage in Wasaga Beach, having a girls' weekend. I'm here with the menagerie, trying to figure out how to plan my sleeps now so as to 'flip' for Monday morning. Oh, and there's a buttload of cleaning to do around here, too.