The end of my shift is in sight and the end of my week too. Thank fuck. Last week and the week before I was covering for a colleague on holiday. This meant I was working Wednesday to Saturday instead of Tuesday to Friday. That was all very nice the first week – when I ended up with a 4 day break instead of my usual 3, but not quite so nice readjusting this week – when I’ve had 2 days off instead of 3!! And since 3 days off feel like 2, that of course meant 2 days off felt like 1. And what masochist wants to have, or feel like they have, just 1 day off between their working week.
Now you may be saying “Stephen. Get a grip. Most people work 5 days a week with 2 days off.” And I would say yes, but I bet those most people aren’t working 10 hour shifts, and 40 hours a week. If I did 5 of mine that is 50 hours a week. NO FUCKING WAY.
My plan after work is to walk the 2 miles into town, get some Belgian Buns from Greggs, then stop off at McDonald’s on the way home and sit and gorge on a Double Sausage and Egg McMuffin, with an orange juice. Bliss.
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