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Oh God

Various parts of my body are screaming at me in pain. My hand feels like the thief's from that one really hard-to-watch scene in Casino. The blister on my foot has gone down remarkably, but I'm willing to bet it'll be back by the end of the day. The fact that I've literally been taking extra-strength Excedrin every single workday (because I can't make it through the day without it) is going to present its bill at some point, and I'm not going to handle it well. I kept waking up last night (this NEVER happens to me), I think due to the stress of thinking about this job and in particular Wednesday (when I have to close by myself for the first time ever, plus I got doubly fucked on counter help — I am SO boned). There's at least two things I'm possibly going to get yelled at for today, and I really don't have good answers for either of them.

If I don't find a way to get paid to do something in an office somewhere, I will be dead within five years. I'm not even kidding.


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