It’s 5:28pm, Last Day of Work Eve and I’m home, sucking back on the world’s most satisfying cigarette.
I fled from the office at 5pm and walked home while my brain played head-movies of me picking up the Happy Hour sign I was about to walk past and throwing it through the window of the bar.
My brain has decided it no longer wants to work with me, but against me. This last week I have been unable to concentrate for more than a few minutes on any given task. The only thing my brain can concentrate on is the fact that I finish work tomorrow and have a metric fucktonne of work to do.
I am absolutely riddled with this overwhelmingly tense, excess energy, possibly thanks to the 900ml of redbull I consume daily, along with the 3 coffees I’ve been having. It seems that this little britard either has to give up caffeine or take up exercise.
I think we all know the option that I will take.
The only option I didn’t mention: the one where I don’t actually change anything, and just get angry a lot.
Keep me in your thoughts, guys. Tomorrow is going to be a nightmare!