Long week

I moved out at the last minute this weekend, and then I spent monday morning, monday night, tuesday morning, tuesday night, wednesday morning, cleaning packing and unpacking. Driving around. Throwing shit out. I didn’t sleep much. It’s entirely my fault, I know.

The rest of the week I was still getting up at six am and getting home at ten pm. Not sleeping that much. Around four o’clock on Friday I squeezed my eyes and then couldn’t shake the little shooting stars for a couple of minutes. I knew I had to get home.

I left the office around six. I got home around eight. I made dinner, fed my cat, called my girl. Now I’m writing this.

I don’t want to do this any more. Even when I’m not overworked, it’s too much. I am responsible for too much. The company does not make enough money. I am increasingly certain I will be sacked the week after I move close enough to live like a real person.