I'm fucking beat.
Probably because I stayed up until 8am, but you know.... maybe not.
I have absolutely no energy to do anything.
I can't even start shit, though I have the right to.
A couple of books I had lent out were haphazardly and disrespectfully returned to me. Clothes-pinned to the mail slot in front of my garage, in a plastic bag that wasn't secured enough to prevent water from getting into it. (Only an idiot could not realize that water tends to roll off a roof after a rainfall.) The cunt who did it couldn't bother to do the proper thing and, I don't know... leave the books in my garage. Perhaps texting me to warn me of it, so we could avoid each other.
Of course, the kind of bitch who would do something like that is also the sort that can't even bother to call or visit and directly face whatever asinine issues she had with me.
I didn't care about the one book. That one wasn't even damaged much. The other one, though.... The Magic Toyshop by Angela Carter.... That one I would have only lent to a friend.
I could demand a replacement. Have her ask mommy to free up more room on her credit card to purchase a new one. I'm too fucking done with it all to bother.
Jesus, I loved that book.
Fuck, there's a wedding on Saturday, isn't there? I swear if my grandmother says a single unkind word to my mother, I'm slicing her with a broken tequila bottle. And if David has the discourtesy to show up, I'm castrating the fucker.
I hate extended family.
I have absolutely no energy to do anything.
I can't even start shit, though I have the right to.
A couple of books I had lent out were haphazardly and disrespectfully returned to me. Clothes-pinned to the mail slot in front of my garage, in a plastic bag that wasn't secured enough to prevent water from getting into it. (Only an idiot could not realize that water tends to roll off a roof after a rainfall.) The cunt who did it couldn't bother to do the proper thing and, I don't know... leave the books in my garage. Perhaps texting me to warn me of it, so we could avoid each other.
Of course, the kind of bitch who would do something like that is also the sort that can't even bother to call or visit and directly face whatever asinine issues she had with me.
I didn't care about the one book. That one wasn't even damaged much. The other one, though.... The Magic Toyshop by Angela Carter.... That one I would have only lent to a friend.
I could demand a replacement. Have her ask mommy to free up more room on her credit card to purchase a new one. I'm too fucking done with it all to bother.
Jesus, I loved that book.
Fuck, there's a wedding on Saturday, isn't there? I swear if my grandmother says a single unkind word to my mother, I'm slicing her with a broken tequila bottle. And if David has the discourtesy to show up, I'm castrating the fucker.
I hate extended family.