I have the strangest feeling that I'm going to be writing about my cute busser quite a lot, and therefore need to bestow one of my own specially-conceived names upon him. I shall call him Claudio.

I'm beginning to find this boy more darling every time I see him. He dominates my thoughts at work; I can’t glance in his direction without blushing and turning my head the other way in order to hastily grin in a manner that’s anything but discreet. I can’t help but throw my hair back every time I approach his bussing station, I honestly can’t. He’s such a dear, and he doesn’t do heroine. Talk about a double threat!

I’m so sad that he’s old. Well, older. I think he’s 20, but he might be 19. Normally this wouldn’t deter me, but at work things like this never work. What a pity.

I had so much homework to do today that I didn’t do. (A surprise, I know, please do try to contain your shocked gasps and startled demeanors.) I don’t know when I’m going to do it, yet it has to get done. This isn’t fair; if my history teacher has the power to create a time warp in her class and command time to stop, I should too. I should be able to snap my fingers and work and sleep and eat, only to return back to this rushed reality when I feel prepared and well-rested. Stupid deadlines, gngngng…

Opening night for take 5 is in less than a week, and I still need to get one of the nights covered. If I don’t get it covered, than I’m not going to work. It’s simple; I’m not missing the play just so that I can be at work to serve dollops of spag to uncouth customers.

Oof. I’m tired. To bed I valiantly trot!