One more late shift and I'm done with the week from hell.
Thank the gods.
I only have myself to blame of course, because really, no one forces me to say "sure" when I get asked if I could cover some shift, but my usual comment of "I can sleep when I'm dead after all" hasn't been so true for quite some while. And I really don't sleep very much during a normal week either.
The good part of the constant busyness and sleep deprivation is that it stops me from thinking too much about my life. Which is exactly what I need right now.
Melodrama is anathema to me, and as such I really don't like part of my brain trying to convince myself that everything is Just. So. Terrible.
That part needs to be slapped and put away. Which is much easier to do if I can ignore my lazyness and the resulting state of my diss, my non-existing plans about the future, my attempts to get over the Stupid Crush (I'm doing better at those! Success in something at least!) and some run-of-the-mill happenings at work that try to prove that Murphy was an optimist.
On the other hand overworkedness and fatigue make for very maudlin entries here, but one can't have everything.
And for something completely different, why is my radio clock five minutes late? This would be annoying even if I weren't so obsessive about being punctual.