Workdays and Washrags

Have you ever felt like a used rag?

Like, that kinda gross oddly grey one that you've owned forever

(did it even start off grey? what color is this thing?)

I kind of feel like an old rag sometimes.

The thing about working two jobs in high school is that, dude.

I worked two jobs in high school.

I was so tired all the time.

I did the math, and it turns out I was home, on average, less than the amount of time that most people need to sleep in a night.

That's including time to eat, sleep, do laundry and chores, take care of my personal hygeine, finish up homework, make college plans, and take any time for myself like, ever.

Wiping my way across the (suspiciously sticky) kitchen counter that was my schedule, I *was* your gross old used rag.

I'd always get the job done, that's why you keep me around, but I've certainly seen better days.

It's like:

A string the length of my body trails behind me wherever I go, there's a tear in the seam at my upper right hand corner, my edges are frayed, and I'm practically see-through.

You're not really entirely sure when the last time you washed me was (neither am I),

but that's fine because I've just been sitting on the edge of the sink, anyway,

and I still work.

My daily grind was as follows:

Roll out of bed by 5:30. Get ready for school.

Make a quick stop by my favorite convenience store to grab enough caffeine to get me through the day.

Classes until 1:30.

Leave school, rush home, take care of the dog, finish scholarship application, check admissions status, start on stats homework.

Get two problems done.

Rush to get ready for work, oh no, where's my nametag, forgot to do laundry, need some clean black socks where are they--yes! Found some.

Rush to work, there by 3:30. Take orders, run the kitchen, check inventory when i had the time, read chapters of Frankenstein between rushes because I have a test tomorrow-- it's 8:45.

I get my first break. A Personal Finance book sprawled among the remains of my first meal of the day.

20 minutes passed, back to work. Christian, take a break, I'll run the drive line.

He's back, I swap to front counter, try to get everyone caught up for closing.

Closing comes, we're behind on this and this and this, I put someone on dishes, tell the cashiers to finish up quickly, recede into my office, count the safe and refill the drawers and prep my deposit,

Make it home.

Take out dog, refill water dish, clean the kitchen,

Collapse onto my couch.

Check the time.

1:42.

It has been a good day.

Put my laundry in the wash for tomorrow, pull my stats book out again.

Maybe catch some sleep in the hour of two before I need to get up again--

Alarm beeps.

Roll out of bed by 5:30.

Rinse and repeat.

Wring yourself out, hang yourself to dry.

That's job #1.

Wait until you see my weekend trick--

two shifts, two locations, one day.

I didn't even need the money.