I worked at the New Job for 15 hours straight yesterday-- doing my shift from 3-8am, then helping another employee with theirs from 8am-6pm. It wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't injured myself almost immediately after the start of the second shift. Ironically, the money he paid me to help is about what I would've made if I hadn't stayed home today to heal up. Since the job's going to get a lot more intense in the next few months and shrinking my class load for it isn't an option, I'm not so sure I'll be able to stick with it for much longer, no matter how much I love it. For more irony, the Old Job's moved to a place on campus it's going to be almost impossible for me to get to, so very soon I might be completely jobless. I'm tired of pissing and moaning about job stress, though. Seems like that's all I do these days.

Matt and my two-year anniversary is this weekend but Matt's going to have to be out of town. Maybe I'll just spend it curled up in bed.