Pathetic Anger Bread

E-mailed my boss yesterday to see about coming in later than six on Monday morning, since I have Quire rehearsal the night before and would like to rest up after the seven-and-a-half hour work day preceding it. My boss said she'd see what she could do. Just got the revised schedule; not only am I not working any later on Monday morning, I'm now working eight hours on Sunday and an hour later that day, reducing the time I have to rest up between work (roughly eight hours on my feet, lifting, measuring, mixing, baking, cutting, and possibly even teaching, plus half an hour commute either way) and rehearsal. And that's if I don't have to stay later, which I have had to do a time or two. I really desperately don't want to skip rehearsal, either, since the concert is a week from Saturday.

I am up half an hour of time from the previous schedule, which puts me at a full 39 hours of work next week; I've also got six days in a row that I'm working, five of them at full time hours. While I know that at least one of my frequently coworkers has it worse, she actually lives in town and is officially a full time worker in a managerial position. I am not. I don't get benefits. And, as a part-timer, I can't rely on getting these hours regularly. My hours are supposed to "average out" at 28 a week. That means I get some weeks like this, and some where I work only four hours, if that. If I knew I could count on getting 40 hours a week regularly, I would look into getting my own transportation and a place to live that was closer to my place of work. Since that's not something I can count on, though, I'm still stuck in my parents' basement, borrowing my mom's car, and driving at least an hour every work day.