Pitiful Misfortune Circut
Today, my first day back at work, was shit. They finally got me some help, right? It came in the form of a 21-year-old, miniature model named Amy. I have no problem with her, she's nice. But, those bastards at Bray made us truck in every fucking file from the literature room. Which is about 100 bankers boxes packed full of decaying order acknowledgements and battered invoices. Some hefty shit. We had to haul all of it from one end of the building to the other, through the sweltering machine shop. We died twice!
Yesterday Lee made a sad attempt at Fetticini Alfredo, which strangely enough turned out to be very good indeed, then I made some potato madness and, with his dad's help, some decent rice crispy treats. Yum.