July 30th 2015

Today I did that thing where I woke up and then went to work for twelve hours and then only just got home five minutes ago. I’m also repeating today, tomorrow. It’s okay though, because I didn’t work yesterday and I felt bad. I felt like I was wasting money by not working yesterday, but it was good to get some stuff sorted. 

As it is now past midnight, (although this still counts as todays blog) I can say that I leave for travelling two weeks today. Yesterday I bought a backpack, and on Sunday I’m sorting out my phone, insurance, and travel cash passport. The only other thing I really have to do before I go is to make as much money as I can. 

So that’s why my days are spent at work from 12, until 12. And you won’t hear any complaints from me, oh no. I want to work 12 hour days. I want to work 16 hour days. I want to have 6 hours sleep and work the other 18 hours. Because in two weeks time I get to leave. And now, finally, I’m beginning to get excited. 

Last week I realised that three weeks sounds a lot less than four weeks. Today I realised that two weeks sounds A LOT LESS than three weeks. 

Two weeks is a fortnight. 

Two weeks is all I have left. 

A fortnight is all I have left. 

Fourteen nights is all I have left. (In case you didn’t know, because I didn’t until I googled it literally ten seconds ago, “fortnight” is short for “fourteen nights”) 

Also: at this point “fortnight” no longer seems like a real word. 

Until tomorrow, I have fourteen nights left. 



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