I'm too tired to know. I know on the grand scheme of things working 11 straight days (it'll be 12 tomorrow. A round dozen. How nice.) isn't all that major. But I'm utterly shagged anyway. All I wanna do is curl up in a small ball and let the next 62 days flow past. Two calendar months. Please gods, let me wake up tomorrow and it be July.
Tomorrow I have to really start promoting the new French service. I was gonna do it today, but I had the little matter of the Welsh worksheet to finish off, and it turned any remaining braincells to mush. Oh, that and the 6.30am routine. I can't believe I was working by 7.30am. Probably good that I was because I'd had it by lunchtime.
Ah, enough, enough already.
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