Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2)

August 23

August 23

It took me a while to get out of bed this morning. I could have slept for about 12 more hours, but after maxing out my number of snoozes, I had to get the hell up. It felt like an eternity since I'd performed my morning routine, but I prepped my lunch, cleaned, made my bed, showered, and was out the door looking relatively presentable by 9:30 a.m.

I arrived at The Clubhouse at 10 a.m., and settled into my office. 10:05 a.m. came around, and I hadn't had an altercation. Maybe this was going to be a good day? I wasn't having it, though. My sore throat from last night had now been joined by severe congestion and sinus pressure. It looked like I had been crying, which I actually came close to doing pon de subway this morning. "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" played on shuffle, and I found myself fighting back tears. What the hell is going on in my life right now?

"Are you getting sick?" Big Bird asked from behind her three computer monitors.

"I don't think so," I wheezed.

"Ah, maybe too much partying," she said.

I didn't want to give Big Bird the benefit of being spot on with her diagnosis.

"Not exactly," I muttered.

That was sort of true, right? Sure. Let's go with that.

I knew I had to bring up the Vegas time off today, but Big Bird wasn't in the best of moods. I decided to delay my request until after lunch.

I finished my work for the day fairly quickly, then spent the rest of my morning browsing around the web. Big Bird had asked for an update on what I was working on, and somehow, I managed to completely bullshit at least ten different projects. Don't ask me how. I just did. Wow.

With Big Bird satisfied with my "work," I headed upstairs to drop something off at the front desk. Passing through the event space outside my office, there was a ton of leftover food from one of this morning's functions. I went to town. I gorged on everything from brownies to barbecued chicken before I finally went upstairs around 1 p.m.

After delivering some paperwork to Niall, I turned around and began walking back to my office. That's when the inevitable happened. It may have been three hours after I had started my shift, but I was stopped by Sheriff Stella in the middle of the club – right in front of staff members and guests. This was not going to end well.

"I want to make sure you know that you're expected to have full availability for the Toronto International Film Festival," Stella barked. "We absolutely need you for the entire two weeks. No exceptions."

I started shaking inside. As usual, Stella had completely caught me off guard. Despite having rehearsed comebacks a thousand times in my head, I didn't know what to say. If Stella had approached me like a normal person, I would've had a better handle on things. I felt like a complete pussy, though.