Every Monday it’s the
same thing. I arrive to work a few minutes late, still dead inside from
sleeping most of the weekend, and greet my coworkers. They tell me of their
weekends and all of the fun things they did. Lucky them, I worked this Saturday
and spent my free time eating chips on the couch while Netflix pumped shows
into my eyes. Next thing I know, I have a handful of contracts thrown at me and
a set of keys. Time to drive to Livingston. At least I get a bit of time to
myself in the car before I deal with the public. While in the car, it hits me
that I didn’t eat breakfast. Should I stop by McDonald’s?
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