So I had a bit of an emotional breakdown today.

Basically, I have a lot of stress on my shoulders, what with my part-time job at Harris Teeter, my (attempts at) working out for the soccer season, intense school projects, and being sick for the past two weeks. I think I have a bit of an excuse.

So today, I tried to take off of work at Harris Teeter because I had to skip school because I was wheezing deep in my chest. My mom told me to come home, and then concluded that I might be coming down with pneumonia. Fun stuff. Then when I called Harris Teeter to duck out of my shift, they told me that I couldn’t because a.)If I wanted off, I needed to call at least 2 hours before, and b.)Four other people had called in sick and they needed me. So I was forced to go to work.

I went and I cashiered for a long time. My floor monitor had said that he would try to get me off early if it got less busy, but that never happened. Ironic thing? I had to stay PAST the end of my shift. I was almost asleep on my feet. No joke, I was literally dozing off and customers would have to tap my shoulder to get my attention. That’s what you get for putting a sick girl to work.

SO anyways, on my (single) break, I got myself a chocolate chip muffin from the decadent bakery at HT as a pick-me-up, but I didn’t have enough time to finish it, so I put it in the fridge with my receipt attached to the bag so that no one would think I had stolen it. After my exhausting shift, I went, with high anticipation of that muffin, to the break room to retrieve my snack, only to find that someone had nabbed it. I mean, come ON, who steals a half-eaten muffin?

I’m not ashamed to say it: I cried a little bit. (Well, maybe just a little, but again, I had an excuse!)

All of the stress that had been piling up on me came up through that one muffin, and I was really mad. My floor monitor came into the break room just as I was having a clean-cuss fest (saying things like “OHMYGOSH I CAN’T BELIEVE SOME IDIOT STOLE MY MUFFIN!” You know me, I don’t ever ACTUALLY cuss. That’s the extent of my dirty language.)

He was all like, “Is everything ok, Kristin?” and so naturally, I said, “Actually, no it’s not. Someone stole my muffin!” (amidst my semi-tears. I told you, I was ALMOST crying, not actually.) He said, “Really? Well then why don’t you go get another one?”

My anger dissipated and my faith in the goodness of humankind was reestablished. “Really?” I said tearfully. “Really.” He answered affirmatively.

With no further ado, I strode to the bakery, grabbed myself another chocolate-chip muffin, and strode out of the store, my prize in my hand. Yes, it’s a bit sad that I (semi) cried over a muffin but hey, I get some amnesty because of my sickiness. Don’t judge me.

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