I think I's got punked.

I had this amazing dream this morning that I was allowed to stay in bed all day with a good book and just relaxxx... I know. Ridiculous. What kind of world do I think I live in? Sleep? Every day?! Madness!

So of course at 9.30 my stupid bloody sister and her friend woke up and started playing on the Wii really loudly, and then I hear "your sister was snoring all night".

"Shuddup, I hab a blockedeh nose-uh." And hoo boy... what a blocked nose it was. You know when you have a cold and you feel like your head is going to explode? It was like that. I try to get to sleep again when Cleo and friend go downstairs, and ten minutes later Cleo bursts in saying "Someone from work is on the phone for you".

Oh balls. I've cocked up too many times, I've done something terrible at work and having realised it or SOMETHING or else why would they call me?

"Uh... hellob?" Blocked nose - no help whatsoever.

"Hey Nicole, can you come into work today?"

First reaction: Phew...

Second reaction: So... sleepy... have to say yes... homework... will suffer...

So an hour later I was sat in the staffroom popping cold and flu capsules and fighting to keep my eyes open, and then the caffeine kicked in.

ohmygodohmygodworktodoohmygod.

Thankfully, I only cocked up twice on the tills as a result but I dropped some flat-pack shelves (those really thick ones that jut out from your walls without supports) on the foot I hurt yesterday leaving me hobbling around the shop floor accumulating pet hates as I tidied the place up:

1. People who pick up brochures and catalogues and leave them lying around on counters, seats or just the floor.

2. People who throw pens and/or draw all over the order forms, AND THEN LEAVE THEM FOR ME TO PICK UP.

3. People who hide all the pens in the catalogues.

4. People who let their kids rip up the damn leaflets.

5. People who pick stuff up and then put them down on the wrong shelves, and messily, at that.

6. People who come to the collection counter when I DID NOT SAY THEIR NUMBER, GRRR. (people who do it deliberately, that is)

7. People who judge me as trouble/unqualified because I'm so very obviously under 18.

8. People in general.

It's a vicious cycle.

Anyhoodle, I left work and trundled over to the bus stop where I found that buses don't actually run on Sundays.

Cue despair of the nth degree.

I waddled down to McDonald's and had my first Happy Meal in 10 years to ease my suffering. I can't say I missed much. (The gherkins/relish though? Top notch. I tip my proverbial hat to you cretins of the McDonald-iverse).

By the time I got home to my bro's kids I found that my nephew can crawl, my nieces are still awesome (there's that word again...) and that Ice Age 3 truly is the funniest film released this year. ("I feel... tingly." "Don't say that when you're pressed up against me!" "Not THAT kind of tingly!")

And now I'm trying to analyse a story by James Joyce for a presentation in English tomorrow (*gulp*) and revise for a test that my raving Feminist psychology/sociology teacher is making me do. Fun fun fun.

Just five more days and I can stop hitting deadlines for a little while...