Ugh/Mmm.

Uuuuugggghhhh.

I'm just home from work. I have tomorrow off. And Saturday. Two. Days. Off.

I love my job, and I love my co-workers, but I think we could all stand this little break from each other before stabbing happens.

Today was gloomy, gray, wet, cold, and ugh. Drive-thru was a monster for the first half of my shift, and then...dead. Just dead. Five partners, nothing to do. The floors and counters were clean, the fridges and cases were stocked, the dishes were done, everything that could be done before closing was. And no customers.

But because of the earlier rush, we were over our "customer count" or whatever, so cutting labor wasn't an option.

UGH.

I have my vanilla steamer, and I'm ready to climb into pajamas, boil myself some frozen pasta, and wait to leap about like a happy sprite when Ryan arrives home. Then we'll settle down on the couch to watch some recorded Alton Brown, and I can slowly drift into Day Off land, and all will be right with the world.

Mmm.