The Breakfast Blend, which I usually start gulping at alarming rates about this time of day, is the least afwul. Today, while brewing my single cup abomination, I reread the seductive description printed on the Box o'Breakfast Blend for about the millionth time. Today, it made me laugh.

It says something like, "Bright, sweet and engaging. Our favorite way to start the day!"

There's nothing bright, sweet, or engaging about this coffee. It's bitter, rancid swill that tastes like it was brewed from 32-day-old grounds. Yet I drink it. My Starfucks is long-gone by this time of day; any (ha!) motivation I may have had left sometime during the lunch hour. Hell, even the uber-caffeinated Starfucks does little for me these days. 6 hours of mandatory overtime + Second Job= One Tired SleepyZoe.

I'm so burnt out, it's beyond the point of being humorous. I'm dangerously close to drooling all over myself and my desk as I'm staring off into space. Sheer exhaustion, compounded with the fact that I'm leaving Shit Job in 22 (yes, 22!) days has rendered me utterly useless. I'm trying to keep focused, really I am. But it just. ain't. happenin'. Not a fucking chance.

I'm so tired, Sug@rKitty is little more than a stress inducer for me. I cannot even be a good girlfriend to CP. I'm totally out of it, and if I happen to be with it in any capacity, it's primarily to be stressed.

I feel like a bundle of raw nerves.

I'm sitting at my desk, eyes glazed over, barely comprehending what I type, what I'm doing with my work, what people are saying to me.

I'm waiting to hear about the loan...my stepdad's supposed to be talking to the bank. There's still a huge fear that I (we) won't get approved. Then what?

I vowed to quit Shit Job, even if the loan or my business didn't come through. I guess I'll wait tables. It'd have to be better than this. Anything is better than this. Well, almost.

Until I hold that loan check in my grubby little paws, until I place my first order and fill out my first tax form...I'm going to be a worthless zombie. A worthless, frightened zombie. Could quitting Shit Job actually make my life worse? I dunno.

Criminy, I need a good cup of coffee.

And a good night's sleep.

xoxo
sz