The glass of wine sitting on the bedside table is doing nothing to subdue my dread of returning to work tomorrow. I am doing three days in a row. three long 12 hour shifts and the thought of it is making me mental.
I have about 124 days until I have to move. If the home sells sooner then the timeline shrinks. God let this house sell in a week! Wishful thinking, I know!
I could be productive and make the best possible use of my time, but I don't see that happening. I most likely will bar hop and avoid working out for the next 18 weeks and move to my new place 20 pounds heavier. Yea that sounds like a plan I can follow through with without much of a problem.
Realistically, I need to shed ten pounds, study for my certification and avoid confrontation with the stupid fat women at work. That in itself is major work. I am not very good at keeping my disgust of others at bay. I got to let them know how fucking stupid they are, especially when they are smug and think their shit don't stink - you know the people.
124 days to not get fired and not walk out is pure frustration. It sounds like an eternity!
No comments:
Post a Comment