Here it is, the beginning of the work week. Yesterday should have been, but I stayed home sick and watched 6 Feet Under all day. It's interesting how whenever I'm really sick and I call in sick, I feel horribly guilty about it. Yesterday was the first time I'd called in sick to this restaurant and I lay around all night wondering if I really was well enough to go in, how much money I was missing out on, and if I was going to get in trouble for not coming to work. But when I call in fake sick (which I don't do that often, really!), I never feel bad about it.
I picked up my whites from the laundress, and some things I'd had altered, which I'm always seeming to do when employed at a restaurant. I wonder where all my money goes because I never save any of it. When I'm not working at a restaurant, I live exactly within my means, and when I am working at a restaurant I live exactly within my means, this just means tailored designer jeans and manicures. Plus new sneakers once a month or so....it's hard to save cash when you work at such a cash-centric, cash-burning job like a restaurant. I know a lot of waiters who don't even count their tips until after they get home from the bar, post-shift, because they don't want to know how much they spent that night. I don't do that, although when I get home and realize I spent fifty bucks buying my co-workers drinks and way overtipping the bartender I re-think the pre-drink counting as well as going out at all.
There will be no going out tonight. I am determined to not blow off my French class any longer.
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