My feet may well fall off sometime tonight. I'll wake up in the morning and be left with stumps. I'd have to drag myself out of bed and glue them back on in time for work.

Talking of which...tomorrow is bank holiday. Which surely means I'm entitled to more pay than usual, no? How likely is that, on a scale from one to ten, ten being the most likely? I'd say one. Less than that. I mean, come on. In the past three days I have worked six hours per day without a break and without sitting down once (just once!). (N.B. Please don't think I have been offered a break, but refused out of the goodness of my heart. No no no! Not at all.)


Aaaarggggghhhh. *stamps both feet and strangles stress ball with little finger*

It's one of those days...where everyday words desert you in a show of stuttering and mumbling. And people sort of look through you. When they're not doing that, they glower. Everything is messy and you feel like squashing people into the ground and see how THEY like it! One of those days where you just CAN'T drop things, even though you know you should - you press and press and keep talking and think "Noooooo. Stop it!! Now!!!".

And at the very worst moment, Shania Twain's "Man, I feel like a woman" comes on. A pointless song if ever there was one.