I called my dad sobbing on Friday afternoon, absolutely positive that I was going to get fired from my dumb job as a cashier at the local pharmacy. I've been continuing to make dumb mistakes and get berated, making me look incredibly careless. Thursday I had my "third strike" when I accidentally charged a customer 93 cents. I know. 93 cents. I cried and came home and just slept all afternoon.
Saturday, I got to see Will sing at his town's Christmas tree lighting, and I spent the rest of the evening with him.
On Sunday I went to see The Nutcracker Ballet in New York with my cousin and aunt. Everything was Christmas-y and wonderful. We went to a restaurant afterward where I had an awesome caramelized pear salad and scalloped potatoes. Also, the movie premiere of "War Horse" was beginning at Avery Fisher hall. There was a red carpet and paparazzi and everything (we even saw Steven Spielberg). We then came back on the train and ate frozen yogurt from 16 Handles :)
But I guess the end was terrible too, because I'm sitting in bed and I feel miserably ill. Ugh.