...the amount of time I spend in this place. I've never made it out of here before 1 am since last Wednesday.
(Except for Easter Sunday. That was the bomb. I went to my parents house for Easter dinner, drank wine, ate stupid amounts of tasty food and watched Chris Rock. Dynomite.)
I confess that I actually stayed so late once two days ago, that I didn't feel like it was safe to leave the building, plus I didn't trust myself to wake up in time and drag my sorry behind out of my house in time for my meeting seven hours later, so I slept on the couch.
So ghetto. The office couches here are not very long, and I'm very tall, so you can imagine, I made quite a pitiful/comical sight when Eric, Tricia, and Adele came in that morning.
Actually, it's really quite late again, and I'm trying to make up my mind what to do. Last time I was here this late, I stayed. But one, I don't want to spend money buying washcloths and fresh undergarments at the Dollar Store--I'd really rather have a shower and a change of clothes at home. Two, I want my bed, even if I only stay in it for three hours. Three, and most importantly, I can't take the constant mockery from my co-workers that followed the last sleepover.
That settles it, yet another cab ride. Blast. I so can't afford this. But oh, I'm gonna.
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