Sunday

Dear Diary,

Today was exceptionally hard to wake up. I coerced myself out of bed with the promise of the amazing coffee creamer morning joy (Bailey's Mudslide), and yet even that was not enough to wake me up before it was too late - there was no working out this morning.

With cold weather and my already-shady allergies, I tend not to work out unless I have 2-3 hours so I can wash and dry my hair. It's an ordeal. It doesn't go away. Even if my hair was shorter it would still take 30 minutes I'm convinced.

Anyways, run-on sentences and all.

I got myself to work and sat down for breakfast (part 2), which is always a delight. There was no one in the break room, which is a good thing (I get silence) and a bad thing (everyone is working). At night that's really not the case, but during the day, silence means there's a lot of noise somewhere else.

So I went and wasn't surprised to see my job today was scrubbing. It's always fun, but a little more worrisome during the weekend/nights. I'm not that strong. I try to be, and I could be, but knowing the steps is difficult when you do it once a week. Maybe.

I finished one lunch with minimal scars, another I actually set up pretty nice (in doing nothing), and the last I sat and waited for anything more than what was happening. It's hard to explain, HIPPA and all, but I sat and sat and sat and waited for a 10 minute case that was taking an hour.

Chilled until our next case, no lunches, but our own case! And one thing after another after another - I'm beat. From one 10 minute case.

So I cannot trust anything now.

Finished and waiting for the bell in the break room. I get called into the front line to watch the desk while the others eat (how silly of them).

But then it's time to go home! And finally, how sinfully, I get to leave for a peaceful 12 hours before heading back for another 12 tomorrow.