Life at one thousand miles per hour.

I realized how fast things are passing me by today. I can't believe it's already almost October, and I haven't taken a real vacation in ages. I've worked 42 consecutive days as of tonight. It doesn't look like I will have a vacation until January, maybe February, and who wants to take a vacation then? I can't afford to go anywhere tropical.

It seems like every minute I'm not working, I'm doing something for work, or I'm moving heavy stuff, like furniture and boxes. I can't believe my hair is already in need of a haircut again. I can't afford one anyway. I don't remember the last time I actually did my hair; I've been just washing it and then running out the door for months now. Somehow, it looks nice most of the time. My body has gotten into the annoying habit of aching really badly every time I move a limb later in the day, which is seriously slowing me down at work. I'm starting to wonder if the way I schedule myself makes me slightly masochistic. If I could have anything, I would just ask for a hug from each of my parents and my sister. I'd kill to be ten years old again, with my mother yelling at me to finish my milk at the dinner table while I feed things to the waiting dog under the table. Things I want to keep up with - world news, reading, cleaning my room, having clean clothes - have fallen by the wayside. I never feel like I have time to think anymore. One of these days, I'm really, truly going to have some time off, and all of the things that have been stuck in some corner of my mind are going to hit me all at once. Like driving too fast and then hitting the brakes hard, an ugly pileup of cars that is an insurance adjustor's nightmare. Like a ton of bricks.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to make these great strides toward moving forward with Starbucks, and the extra work is eating up what little time I have to myself. I can't believe someone who had never had regular coffee before working for Starbucks now has her arms wrapped so tightly around a coffee company and its whole bean offerings that the smell of unadulterated coffee beans is a huge comfort that soothes my tired mind. It's the first thing I notice when I walk into my room. I don't know that the me of 7 years ago - about when I first became a Starbucks customer - would recognize me now at all. Coffee addict/connoisseur, workaholic.

I'd better get to sleep. I need to be up for my first cup of the day in five hours, and ready to serve a thousand cups in six hours.