I tried literature, and fell asleep.

And finally, when I fell asleep over lively novels, I gave up.

I never succeeded in reading one book in all the time I spent in the laundry.
And when Saturday night came, and the week's work was over until Monday morning, I knew only one desire besides the desire to sleep, and that was to get drunk.

This was the second time in my life that I had heard the unmistakable call of John Barleycorn.

The first time it had been because of brain-fag.