Katie is working for me tomorrow so that I “don’t have to work on my birthday.” It’s super nice of her, and I finally gave in after arguing with her about it for two days. I’d be getting up early to walk the dogs and feed them, anyway, and I’d be there to get coffee, so why should she have to work on a Sunday? I was relishing the fact that I’d have two days off in a row (my last one was Monday), when she told me that this Monday, she might need me to cover her shift at the store because someone had scheduled her elsewhere.
It’s okay, though. I’ll be able to spend the day doing something other than the repetitive ritual of pounding out shots. I’m so burnt out at work right now. I picked the absolute worst time to go up in hours. I came home from work this afternoon, watched part of the opening ceremonies of the Olympics with Charlie, and finished Middlesex in the hammock, after which I promptly fell asleep.
Annette came by on Friday and gave me a wonderful gift: a handmade knit cap. It’s so cute and so thoughtful. I got a card from my grandmother Friday, as well. Now if only that could be the last mention of this you-know-what, I’ll be good. We don’t have to discuss what it is. It’s just another day and I’d rather not make a big deal out of it.