The Long Weekend

I am so tired. I don’t what made me agree to work the whole weekend, starting Friday. I was up early on Friday anyway to take my sister to the airport. It was very depressing since four of us (my sis, my bro, my dad and me) entered and only I came out, on my lonesome, the only one not going on holiday because I have to get my degree, blah. It was horrible. Then I got lost and couldn’t find the train station. There’s me wandering around Heathrow airport on my own clutching my cup of coffee and peering blearily at the directions. After that little adventure, I had to go to work. It’s not like my job is particularly tiring, it isn’t, but I spend a lot of time sitting on my ass behind a desk with nothing to do, usually I’d play Solitaire on the computer but the Manager took it off because he was worried that it would prevent the receptionists from working. Which is ridiculous because ‘working’ usually entails staring at the wall in front of you and twiddling your thumbs hour after hour. Plus due to the fact that I’m far too nice I’m covering other peoples shifts, therefore I was at work at closing Friday night and opening Saturday morning. This prompted one of the members (I work at a Health Club) to ask me if I ever left. No, no I don’t, I just roll out a sleeping bag under my desk. That’s what it feels like anyway. So I’m at work now, breaking the no internet rule, because seriously what else am I supposed to do for nine hours on a Sunday when only 3 people actually come in per hour. That’s about 7 minutes of work… per hour.
I did have an espresso this morning. Coffee makes me weird, my body is jumping around all over the place but my mind is going…ever…so…slowly. I should stop drinking it. Although I have written some essays pretty damn fast when on a coffee buzz.
Oh man, I’ve only been at work for an hour? What the hell? It feels like I’ve been here forever. Grrr. I want to go back to bed.



What I’m Listening To: I don’t even know. Some song.