I woke up this morning and Aaron�s head was nestled against my belly. On my drive to work, there were some crows playing chicken. I hummed Come Out From The Shadows, because that�s what was stuck in my head. I got to work and was asked once again by my manager how everything�s going (fine, fine, it�s absolutely fucking fine). Now here I am at work, pondering how healthy it could be if I have to consciously maintain my sanity. I�d be dancing along the teller line if I didn�t have such a strong sense of all that is professional. A wop bobba loo bob, a wop bam boom.
Boyfriends are v. nice and I love mine, especially when I can get him to do whatever I want by eeking out a few tears. Mu ha ha ha. (He knows he�s being manipulated, though, so it�s not evil).
There exists a thing I like to call a �sense of urgency.� It�s that little nagging feeling that maybe you should speed things up a bit when there�s a line out the door. All of my coworkers lack what I thought was a natural instinct. They take their time, pushing referrals and chatting it up with the customers, when perhaps the customer would leave happier if what would have been a thirty-second transaction took less than ten minutes. Maybe I�m just more efficient than some, maybe I don�t talk to the customers as much as I should, but there is something wrong when I get through five customers to everyone else�s one.
Have loverly weekends.
one year ago today: "it's so. so. so nice having someone to kiss good morning and good night and hello and goodbye and someone to give me back massages and someone to give massages to and oi: sex whenever the fuck i want it. this is the life." two years ago today: "it's the year of the gymnast for morgan." and "I want to say, "Well, soandso, I had a relatively grand evening but now it's all going to shit." and "how much ass do i now kick? ".