Blame it on the rain (yeah yeah)

I told myself no later than twelve-thirty, but I don't see myself going to bed any earlier than that. I've been roused up for some reason (other than talks of x-men, "spam" and those fucking haikus, eh?) and now I'm waiting for that big anvil of SLEEP to drop on my head.

In the past couple of days, I've been rousing up ways to get to the office. How odd is that? Actually liking your ex-place-of-employment enough to want to go back even if you're not getting paid anymore? What a world. Today I walked in and said "Hi, I'm here for my 5 o'clock appointment," and Anita looks at me and says, "Oh yes, but we cancelled it." I'm very glad she didn't tack on "because you're his daughter" on to that. Otherwise, there'd have been some words.

We had a bet going on when Jen was finally going to deliver her baby. She's about nine months pregnant and she's still working in the office. Everytime I come in to see them, she's telling me how her back hurts or how her feet are swollen, but by god, she is a fucking trooper. Anyway, I placed my bet on the 8th which is ... today. I'm crossing my fingers because (A) I want to see her baby before I leave and (B) I REALLY NEED THAT CHOCOLATE BAR.

I also told myself: no tears. What's the use in crying? What's the point in that? What's wrong with holding it in and holding it back?

(That was a rhetorical question, folks.)