Everyday is the longest day of my life.
I wake up in time to hurry into my whites. I get into my whites in time to sprint to breakfast. Breakfast is scarfed down in time to rush to class. I arrive in class to scramble together my mise en place, to prep for lunch, to throw my creation on a plate as the teacher and guests tap their feet--their eyes burning a hole through my flesh. A deep second degree, possibly third, on my ego. I scramble to remove the sautoirs and hotel pans from the burner for my meager lunch break. Lunch is inhaled so that the dishes can be scrubbed--they've been soaking to speed up clean up.
From kitchen to dorm, I speed walk. Running down the hall, I make it to work and blaze through the massive amount of homework contained in the blue backpack. I race back to the twelve by thirty room to stumble into the shower, to crash into my bed--just in time to hit the snooze button.