baked chips depress me profoundly

I had a dream last night that I had a severe head cold, and now I'm having trouble shaking off the feeling that I should be sniffling and coughing.

PM didn't want me for my on-call lunch shift today, and I gave away tonight's dinner shift last week (that is, if she remembers she took it... I'm a little nervous that I'm going to get a phone call at four fifteen asking irately why I'm not there). So I randomly have a day off. I'm catching up on the laundry I didn't do on Monday and then hanging out with my sister, who is newly moved to Scarborough (which, coincidentally, is why I didn't have time to do my laundry on Monday).

Scarborough is a hole. I know this for the following reasons: 1) empirical observation, and 2) Jo told me so. I know that Jo is often a lying liarton from Liarville, but in this case she is nothing but right. It reminds me of the sketchiest parts of Mississauga. Also, would it KILL Toronto to label things a little better? I got lost, like, twice trying to get to her piss pad by transit. Interesting trivia re: me, which may or may not totally undermine my beefs about getting lost: I have East vs West dyslexia or something. I constantly confuse them. I have to face North and then picture a map of Canada and remember that West is off to the left.

Em's moving day was not a good day for the family. On top of my transit woes, we were unable to get her bookcase and sofa in (her place is a basement pad in an older house), and then there was a bizarre odyssey for dim sum (all five of us were crammed into the Corolla, doing slow drive-bys of Asian plazas) that ended in us eating at Tim Horton's, barely speaking.

And, inevitably, I had gone out drinking with some coworkers the night before, so I was running on three and a half hours of sleep and a quietly festering hangover. Servers tend to be fairly insane drinkers. I had to close that night, so clearly I had to catch up by having some tequila and chugging a beer. On a related note, we were talking about server nightmares at work yesterday--I'm sure all jobs have similar difficulties, but I write what I know--which are, trust me, horrendous. I once dreamt that I was having a heated argument with a customer and I got so worked up that I sat bolt upright in bed, and was unable to get back to sleep for two hours. Another time I woke up, convinced I'd forgotten to punch in someone's appetizer, and had to talk myself down. When I used to bartend, I'd hear the printer spewing out drink orders when I closed my eyes.

My Labour Day weekend was full of labour, but I have today and Saturday off, so September is getting off to an all right start, I guess.