My alarm didn’t go off today. The shitty wireless charger work birthday-gifted me was a charred lump on the floor.
Must’ve melted overnight and blown a fuse. The whole flat was dark. I could smell defrosted M&S Fish fingers.
Decided to get up (again). Tumbled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen. No coffee or ambition anywhere, so I slapped my myself in the fucking face.
—
Got to work late. Boss was at reception. Tried to sneak past. He noticed.
Don’t like being watched. I used to be important. Had an office with a view. A cactus. Money.
“Afternoon, Jolon. Where’s that report?”
Prick.
“The power went out,” I said. True. But not relevant.
He didn’t say anything. Just waved me away.
Prick.
Stopped by the pantry for a quick coffee. Someone had left a packet of chocolate digestives unattended. I ate them.
Got to my desk around 11:30. Inbox was a mess. Deleted most of it without reading.
Went for lunch around 12. A ham and cheese toastie from Pret. Hurt to chew. Wish I hadn’t slap myself so hard.
Didn’t bother going back in. Went home for a nap. Couldn’t.
Made the fish fingers for dinner. Jaw’s still stiff. Better start that report tomorrow.
Night night.
He is a prick, though.
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