I hate my job. I am bored beyond belief. 14 more workdays left, according to the post-it note I just stuck to my screen. Then a week free before I start my demanding Uni course. Between now and then I have to decide exactly how much truth I tell Cuntrelink about my life in order to solicit small monies from them and then fill out the requisite forms in quintipulate complete with DNA sample and 10-year plan; apply for a Working With Children card; organise some modelling jobs to keep me in bread and water; menstruate (and suffer the compulsory and incomprehensible mood swings...check. Doing that now. Clearly.); move a couch; finish the kitchen island so I can reclaim the spare table for a Uni workdesk; and try and remember how to be a nice and lovable person (harder than it sounds).
And I feel like a big fat loser blogging this black mood, but no-one reads my blog anyway so it's only really for me in the end. And it has kept me mildly entertained at work for ten minutes at least.
God. Bored.
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