(no subject)
Oh, Merlin.
No matter how many times I hear Harry and Draco... erm, together, I simply cannot get used to it. Though, I suppose, they do what pleases them, and I should try not to be bothered by it. But it's gross to the point of being vomitous. Like having to listen to Ron shag someone. Ugh.Thank god that's never happened.
Work has been slightly hellish. All the muggle children are out of school, and have nothing better to do with themselves than putter around the village, wasting their pocket money on magic tricks. I can't say that I'm not enjoying myself, but the pace is absurdly hectic, and I've actually had to use the cash register, which still mystifies me a bit. At least I can say I've got the bloody money down, though.
John took me to tea yesterday, and it's been the only non-work related freedom from the Burrow that I've had in over a week. In conversation I said something about Harry's birthday, and how we'd celebrated it in the back garden of the Burrow, and how Harry lives with us durring holiday. This seemed to thoroughly upset Jonh. I tried to smooth things over with a hurried, "Oh, no worries. Just because we used to be in love doesn't mean anything. He's gone all poufy for my best friend now, actually, and he lives with us as well." That didn't clear things up quite as I had planned. Lots of words seem to come out of my mouth when I'm upset, not many of them making much sense.
So everything ended up rather awfully, and John droppped me off at the end of our lane afterward, and angrily asked me if that was Harry flying up in the air on a broomstick.
Yeah. I assure you, I've never paniced so fucking much. I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about, that I didn't see anyone, and tried to pull out of the car. But no, nothing ever works out quite that nicely. Just as I said, "... no idea what you're talking about," Ron bloody flew after Harry shouting, "That's a fucking foul, you stupid prat. You can't touch the Quaffle!"
To which I laughed nervously and said, "You know, that's probably some sort of gay thing," before running down the lane and into the Burrow.
No matter how many times I hear Harry and Draco... erm, together, I simply cannot get used to it. Though, I suppose, they do what pleases them, and I should try not to be bothered by it. But it's gross to the point of being vomitous. Like having to listen to Ron shag someone. Ugh.Thank god that's never happened.
Work has been slightly hellish. All the muggle children are out of school, and have nothing better to do with themselves than putter around the village, wasting their pocket money on magic tricks. I can't say that I'm not enjoying myself, but the pace is absurdly hectic, and I've actually had to use the cash register, which still mystifies me a bit. At least I can say I've got the bloody money down, though.
John took me to tea yesterday, and it's been the only non-work related freedom from the Burrow that I've had in over a week. In conversation I said something about Harry's birthday, and how we'd celebrated it in the back garden of the Burrow, and how Harry lives with us durring holiday. This seemed to thoroughly upset Jonh. I tried to smooth things over with a hurried, "Oh, no worries. Just because we used to be in love doesn't mean anything. He's gone all poufy for my best friend now, actually, and he lives with us as well." That didn't clear things up quite as I had planned. Lots of words seem to come out of my mouth when I'm upset, not many of them making much sense.
So everything ended up rather awfully, and John droppped me off at the end of our lane afterward, and angrily asked me if that was Harry flying up in the air on a broomstick.
Yeah. I assure you, I've never paniced so fucking much. I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about, that I didn't see anyone, and tried to pull out of the car. But no, nothing ever works out quite that nicely. Just as I said, "... no idea what you're talking about," Ron bloody flew after Harry shouting, "That's a fucking foul, you stupid prat. You can't touch the Quaffle!"
To which I laughed nervously and said, "You know, that's probably some sort of gay thing," before running down the lane and into the Burrow.