I keep my blog–if perhaps not always my daily life–relatively clear of whining and self-pity (at least since leaving the farm). But you'll have to forgive me a little narcissism tonight.

This has been the worst three days of work at Starbucks to date. Every shift has been hell. I previewed Saturday's monster day earlier: 17 hours at work. It was even worse than I expected. The manager at the store I opened for simply skipped my last break entirely. My closing shift that night was terrible. We got out fifteen minutes late. We got out twenty minutes late on each of these past two nights, for various reasons. I hadn't gotten out late from a close in months, and then three nights in a row I get out late.

By the way, the misery of getting out late isn't the amount of time you lose. An extra fifteen minutes of work is not a big deal. But getting out late means that you've spent the entire night working in all-hands-on-deck mode and still couldn't close up shop in time.

On top of all that the past few weeks have been the worst allergy season I've had in at least a decade.

I am ready for this semester to end.