Self-Diagnosed Workaholic

All summer through every hour of every shift, a chant looped through my head: Italy, Italy, do it for Italy.
I had an internship at the Grand Haven Tribune, and also worked at Subway and Did's Deli to maintain an income. My summer consisted of writing stories and making sandwiches all day, every day. But I knew that in a few months, the 60-80 hour work weeks would all be worth it. "Italy, Italy, do it for Italy," I would remind my sore feet and tired eyes.
While I did make quite a bit of money, life tends to take it back in large chunks. I had $700 in car repairs and $300 in computer repairs this semester. And although my parents kindly helped out with those a bit, my bank account isn't looking quite as full as I'd like.

So here I am on winter break back to my summer routine. I told myself, "only Subway. Only take hours from Subway." But then I figured I might as well pick up a story or two for the Tribune. I like working for them, and Subway wouldn't give me that many hours anyway, right? Wrong. Two closers quit without notice. I've put in 30 hours so far, have another 40 scheduled, and probably about 10 after that.  And today I picked up a lunch shift at Did's because, well because why not? Or maybe just because I've been lusting for their food since I left (Try it if you haven't).
It's not what I was doing over the summer but definitely more than I had anticipated.
I don't mean to complain about the work. I'll probably make over $500 at this rate, which could be a trip to Greece. Besides, it's not like I have anything else terribly exciting to do in this town.
I'm just thinking about my inability to slow down and relax. It's almost become comical.