(no subject)
Wow, I sure do love it when a billion and one expenses pop up for my next paycheck.
I need to somehow pay off my glasses (200 dollars), wire money for the hotel at Comic-Con (200), pay my car tax, and pay my aunt and uncle room and board, all with my next paycheck. Plus gas.
Maybe there's an opening on the corner of 1st and Main.
And I woke up this morning to pouring rain. And the realization that the book I had been reading yesterday was still on the picnic table.
So, the copy of Red Sky At Morning by Richard Bradford that I bought for Tim is probably a blown up mess right now. I don't know. I didn't bother going into the back and looking.
There you go. That fits right in, me throwing my money down the drain when I really fucking need it. Go me.
And all of my windows in my car were left open, so my seats were soaking wet and now the back of my pants are soaking wet and I'm sitting at work, wet and tired and worried and perturbed.
I've been running, though. Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Over 4 miles for each day. Going tonight. I think I may just spend the whole night there. I need to burn away some of this restless, worried, frustrated energy.
Maybe it's my fault that I have weeks like these. It starts off fairly bad and the way I am, inherently, drags the whole fucking thing down. I get into my foul moods and then just let it seep into everything I do.
Gloom and doom and apathy.
My family is having another picnic today, at Diane's house. I'm not going. I filled my quota for the week.
Speaking of quotas, I suppose I should get back to work.
-Cupcake out
P.S. Fireworks are incredibly overrated.
I need to somehow pay off my glasses (200 dollars), wire money for the hotel at Comic-Con (200), pay my car tax, and pay my aunt and uncle room and board, all with my next paycheck. Plus gas.
Maybe there's an opening on the corner of 1st and Main.
And I woke up this morning to pouring rain. And the realization that the book I had been reading yesterday was still on the picnic table.
So, the copy of Red Sky At Morning by Richard Bradford that I bought for Tim is probably a blown up mess right now. I don't know. I didn't bother going into the back and looking.
There you go. That fits right in, me throwing my money down the drain when I really fucking need it. Go me.
And all of my windows in my car were left open, so my seats were soaking wet and now the back of my pants are soaking wet and I'm sitting at work, wet and tired and worried and perturbed.
I've been running, though. Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Over 4 miles for each day. Going tonight. I think I may just spend the whole night there. I need to burn away some of this restless, worried, frustrated energy.
Maybe it's my fault that I have weeks like these. It starts off fairly bad and the way I am, inherently, drags the whole fucking thing down. I get into my foul moods and then just let it seep into everything I do.
Gloom and doom and apathy.
My family is having another picnic today, at Diane's house. I'm not going. I filled my quota for the week.
Speaking of quotas, I suppose I should get back to work.
-Cupcake out
P.S. Fireworks are incredibly overrated.