The reality of my skin faced the night before returning to work, and the struggle to survive

Ah... I really wish this were a dream. The fact that in just a few hours, I have to board the hellish subway. Why does Sunday evening fly by so heartlessly fast? My mind is already racing toward Monday evening, but the reality is that it is still a night where I can't even be bothered to dry my wet hair. I looked coldly in the mirror, and sure enough, the sides of my nose and the corners of my mouth are a mess, probably because I indulged so wildly over the weekend. The texture of my skin, visible under the bathroom light, is such a disaster that it was obvious a catastrophe would ensue if I applied cushion foundation like this tomorrow morning. I didn't want my face to look cracked and dry like a drought-stricken land during tomorrow morning's meeting, so I swallowed my laziness and dug out the hypoallergenic peeling gel I had tucked deep away on the bathroom shelf. In the past, I would have just said, "I'm tired, let's go to sleep," but after meticulously recording my skin condition, I realized there is a world of difference between when I thoroughly cleanse away unnecessary impurities and dead skin cells on Sunday nights like this and when I don't. I tend to trust data, so I absolutely have to do it today. As I rub and watch the dead skin cells slough off, I find myself having the silly thought that it would be nice if my gloomy Monday blues washed away along with them. The power of keeping a record is truly frightening; it makes you overcome your laziness and get moving. After gently rubbing to avoid irritation and applying a moisturizing mask, I feel like I look somewhat presentable now. I need to go into forced sleep mode for the sake of tomorrow's me. If you don't want to sigh while looking in the mirror tomorrow morning, I recommend heading to the bathroom right now.