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I am so burnt out on work. I�ll bet you wish I would stop bitching about work, but I�m not going to. Even if Nick had a full-time job, I would still have to work. I have to. I know that. It obviously doesn�t work with only one of us working, case in point the fact that we live where we do. Okay. Fine. Except � just because I have to work, does that mean that I have to hate every moment of it? There are a few people out there who do like their jobs, right? These people probably went to college and all that jazz. I didn�t. Well, I did, but the going to class part was hard for me. Not the sleeping around and doing all of the drugs part, though. You bet your ass I aced that part. So I have no education, but I�m pretty fucking smart (if I do say so myself). I can put together a sentence, and I know how to talk to clients. (And fuck you, grammar check. I know that sentence sucks, but this is my diary, okay? Lay the fuck off.) I know how to type and do all the fun office-type crap you have to do on a computer. I can do bookkeeping, and I can do retail. I can do management. I can fix a car, for fuck�s sake. So why am I doing what I�m doing? I don�t know either. I�m going to try to get them to let me go home early today, because my head is killing me. I can try. I�m also tripping-over-myself tired, because Nickolas was having some sort of night terror thing last night and screamed for hours in his sleep. So he slept through the whole thing, and I�m a wreck. When I went to wake him up this morning, he had bites all over him, like something was attacking him all night. I guess I have to haul out the spider spray, AGAIN, and get his area good. I do love living in a basement. Kids are: Last person who pissed me off: Heard in my house: Miss Anything? pics - 2007-06-05
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