Workers Solidarity Movement

There’s not enough bloody time in the day. I find the more my life goes on, the less time I have to live. I wake up around 6am to go to work, and after my commute home, cooking dinner, and attending to other errands, I have 1 hour to myself if I’m lucky. Often by the time I do these basic tasks it’s late enough that I know I’ll be shattered tomorrow and I’ll have to drag myself through the day. After five days I clamber to the shore of the weekend, but often find I’m so drained and conditioned by the work week I’m not myself. It’s a cycle which has no end in sight. Time is constantly on my mind. ‘Can’t do that, not enough time. Sorry, not enough time. Not enough time. I wish I had more time. Where does the time go?’ Checking my phone, what time is it, checking my phone, checking my phone. It does my head in and it’s not going to improve.