Even at 2am last night, I was already dreading this morning. I dont believe in any culture it should even be allowed to work on weekends, let alone in the morning after a night of drinking and whatnot. I woke up an hour before work, because even with the hour to spare, I know I still will be late. Somehow Im prone to being sick and I always have some sort of illness, I suppose it helps me to constantly play the victim role that I love so much. This week my illness is Pink Eye topped off by a nasty sinus infection, which make work even more fun when all you do all day is answer phones. No one will even come into the office today, except for me, open and close, thats what I get paid to do. Pay me to be bored. At least Im good at what I do. If I truly want to work, its like second nature and isnt even hard, but I'm just too lazy to care. Four years I've held this part time job. Thats longer than any boyfriend I've ever had, almost any friend Ive ever had except for Meg, whos been close to me since the second grade. All the people here love me, they laugh at me sitting behind the front desk hungover as shit trying to keep my eyes open and think its hilarious. Hell, I think its kinda funny sometimes, too. I play the part nicely though, Im one of the only people I know who can pull myself together after a crazy night and go work the next morning on very little or sometimes no sleep, sometimes still a little messed up.
Most of the time I just space out, stare out the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the busiest road in the whole area. Im easily amused, so I can lose hours staring at cars going by. Eight cups of coffee and eight hours later I will be leaving, only to return again on Sunday morning.