This past two weeks I have been counting down the excruciatingly slow days, hour by hour, congratulating myself every night before going to sleep for surviving another day.

“Just eight work-days and ten days in total to go, just seven work-days...”

Last night I kept repeating: “Just one more day and then it's the weekend and I can lie down and die a little. Then it's just four days left and then I will be in Sweden.” But nooo...

This morning some woman (I have no idea who the hell she is) came in for the third time this week and asked if anybody could work this weekend. I thought: “Hmm...I can work, right? It's not like I do anything special with my free time here. (I can't even watch TV! I, Dena, have survived almost two months without TV. I'm so proud over my self.) And I could really need the money...”

“I can work!” The woman whose name I could care less about turns to me. “Really? What's your name, I will put you on the list...blablabla...”

ALL WORK AND NO TV MAKES DENA AN INSANE GIRL

Now I'm suppose to work tomorrow from 16:00 to 23:30. Damn it people, don't speak to me so early in the morning. You make me do stupid things!

On the upside I already make a lot of money working regular days (I'm in Norway, remember?), now I will get extra for not only working on a Saturday but for working the evening shift, that ironically is said to be much easier.