Sunday

It was the penultimate day of my degree when I woke up, and despite my raging exhaustion I could not bring myself to go back to sleep.  Instead I lay there for at least an hour and a half thinking about all the things that I did not want to do and all the things that had to be done.  Unsurprisingly, the two lists were very similar.  Eventually when it could not be put off any longer I emerged from my huddle beneath the bedclothes and prepared myself to leave the house.

It was 3.30 pm when I went to work, knowing full-well that I was completely and utterly emotionally unprepared for being there.  It also appeared that the universe was conspiring to make the experience as unpleasant for all involved as possible.  After two hours of my rostered seven and a half, I had had enough.  The manager came up to me to say something and I told her that I didn’t want to know about whatever it was.  She took pity and arrangements were made for me to leave.  I felt like bursting into tears of relief.

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