chucking
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate my job? This has been the worst week! I could detail the charges against my detested editors, but I'll spare you the venom. Plus I think I've been negative enough lately to last all year. Suffice it to say I've accumulated enough overtime this week to take an extra day off next week. Which is maybe a good thing? But also means I've been working for twelve days straight, only to finish off at 7pm doing the most ridiculous story on the orders of a condescending bitch and... I'm tired and cranky, in case you couldn't tell.
The upside is I'm no longer dreading another weekend home alone. I'm just so happy to be free.
I was looking around my flat last night, imagining how much hassle it would be to pack everything up... way too much hassle. It made me angry at myself. I've been acting as if I'll be in UK for ages, buying things that suggest settling. VCR, DVD player, stereo, a million books and clothes... I'd feel like a failure for chucking it all in and giving up at this point. Argh!
I'm too tired to think about this tonight. I went to the library and picked up a bunch of trashy novels and I just want to cuddle up under the duvet and read my life away.
But first... big brother. Mmmm.
