A quick one for Clarissa

Filmed on my phone, sitting on the end of the bed. One take, no redo.

Not a usual post, this one. No crib box recipe, no sleep setup, no roster rant.

I was short with Clarissa, and she didn't deserve it. Tired, cranky, and I took it out on the one person who's done nothing but look out for me. That's on me, not on the night shift.

And the worst part is how long I've let the good stuff go without a proper thank you. So here it is, in writing, where I can't wriggle out of it:

• The birthday cheesecake. She remembered my birthday when I'd half forgotten it myself, and turned up with a cheesecake. I think I said "oh, legend" and got stuck into it. That's not a thank you.
• The pesto. Her homemade pesto is honestly the best thing I've eaten all year, and she's made me a jar more than once. I've eaten every bit of it and never once told her how good it is.
• The airport run. She drove me to the airport in the middle of the night — the kind of hour where nobody should be awake unless they're getting paid for it. She did it without a word of complaint.
• The house. She keeps my place clean. I walk back in after a long stretch and it's tidy, fresh, and feels like home instead of a crash pad. I've taken that for granted for way too long.

Small wins that survive a night shift — and sometimes the small win is just saying sorry, and thank you, properly.

So I sat down and recorded it before I could talk myself out of it. Clarissa, if you're reading this at your folks' place: I'm sorry, thank you for all of it, and I hope you're well. See you soon, yeah?

Back to normal programming next week.

— Em