(no subject)
You'd be amazed by how many people seek vengeance for one thing or another during the Christmas holidays. You'd think the reason for the season was inflicting pain and misery on others. I have been so busy. The Christmas dinner I was planning to cook got short shrift, but that ended up being okay since only a couple of friends attended. I suppose everyone made holiday plans this time around.
It's been fairly quiet here at the Bar & Grille for the past few days. I have successfully nagged Willy into taking down the Christmas decorations, except for the ones up high, and I got those. I believe I have the hang of nagging; I hear every wife has to do that every so often. I find that promises of sex work better, but what do I know? I'm still figuring out American customs.
Stefan got back from his trip to Savannah last night, and I have the feeling it didn't go so well. My reason for thinking that is he came in here and got drunk off his arse. I didn't have the chance to go over and talk to him until he was already three sheets to the wind (that's another slang saying I don't understand; what does being drunk have to do with bedsheets?). Anyway, I ended up driving him back to the Inn in his car and teleporting back here. I wonder what happened? The poor guy looked absolutely miserable.
Ah, well. Nothing I can do about it at the moment. Right now I'm about to undertake the incredibly repetitive task of refilling the catsup and mustard dispensers after the lunch rush.
It's been fairly quiet here at the Bar & Grille for the past few days. I have successfully nagged Willy into taking down the Christmas decorations, except for the ones up high, and I got those. I believe I have the hang of nagging; I hear every wife has to do that every so often. I find that promises of sex work better, but what do I know? I'm still figuring out American customs.
Stefan got back from his trip to Savannah last night, and I have the feeling it didn't go so well. My reason for thinking that is he came in here and got drunk off his arse. I didn't have the chance to go over and talk to him until he was already three sheets to the wind (that's another slang saying I don't understand; what does being drunk have to do with bedsheets?). Anyway, I ended up driving him back to the Inn in his car and teleporting back here. I wonder what happened? The poor guy looked absolutely miserable.
Ah, well. Nothing I can do about it at the moment. Right now I'm about to undertake the incredibly repetitive task of refilling the catsup and mustard dispensers after the lunch rush.