9:15 P.M.

I’m regretting my hasty decision already, and here’s why:

CONS OF WORKING AT THE THRIFT SHOP:

• Pat
• other hateful/crazy old people
• rummaging through the clothes of the dead
• rummaging through general household goods of the dead
• alphabetizing the books of the dead
• wee smell

PROS OF WORKING AT THE THRIFT SHOP:

• Emma
• Alex
• repaying Kate the kitten money at an imaginary £10 an hour rather than slaving away for actual minimum wage in a job I hate

Six to three I shouldn’t do it.

How do I go back and tell Kate no?

Wednesday, February 28 #KittenAlert

Both designer cats are preggers.

Kate texted me when she got back from the vet.

Congratulations, you’ll be an auntie.

Fuck off.

In other news, Miriam Patel’s still ignoring me. Turns out she didn’t like being called a fuckwit.

She can go to hell.

And Polly can go to hell, too, because today she actually said to me: “You know, Phoebe, I think it’s really cool you’re hanging out with people from the thrift shop.”

What are you even talking about?

Mum sent an email saying they’re still in Turkey. I swear by the time they get to Syria, there’ll be no one left who needs saving.

PS: I’m going to the thrift shop after school tomorrow.

Thursday, March 1 #HNY

Polly still hasn’t wished me a happy new year. It’s now March.

This afternoon I had my first official shift at the thrift shop, despite the six to three majority against the endeavor.

When I got there, Emma was already working. She goes to Wimbledon High, and it only takes her ten minutes to walk there.

Kate was like: “I’m so glad you’re here. We had our Easter card delivery this morning, and we need to get it out ASAP.”

There were ten huge boxes of cards containing approximately twenty-five thousand different variations on the Easter theme:

• photograph of daffodils
• daffodils in watercolor
• daffodils in oil
• daffodils featuring a tree
• daffodils featuring a lamb
• daffodils featuring the Easter Bunny
• daffodils featuring daffodils
• daffodils featuring daffodils featuring daffodils

I had to fill three spinners with cards, and I couldn’t shove them in just anywhere (even though who actually cares?), because I had to follow a plan they’d sent from the cancer charity’s head office, and it took me, like, three hours.

So at one point I was like: “How is it there’s six of us, and yet I’m the only one dealing with this?”

Emma said that she did Christmas cards and had told Kate that if she ever made her do cards again, she’d never come back. And Alex doesn’t ever do cards because, according to him, he’s a “customer service specialist” and therefore must be on the till.

Melanie and her husband, Bill, who FYI is 100 percent hilarious and wears brightly colored corduroy trousers, were also there, and Melanie was like: “Oh, no, darling, I’m not here for that.” And then Bill said: “And I’ve got bad eyes, so they all look the same to me.” Funny, because he could see the tiny price labels just fine that he