...why I bother talking to my mother. Every single thing I say, three sentences later she's yelling at me for something unrelated. Every. Single. Thing. Eventually, I think, I am just going to put a vow of silence into place.
Rage was home sick today (I hope you're feeling better, sweetness.) so the day was pretty long and tedious. My foot was sore from the moment I walked in the door, which is... not a good note to start the week on, put it that way. Sold my first real coffee machine today, but I'm not counting it as a real sale as pretty much all I did was tell the guy we had them and how much I was going to give it to him for. For the record, there is a FUCKLOAD of margin in the Gaggia Titanium at the moment. Not forever, but John clearly bought them when Gaggia's only other option was to suck cock for money. Just saying.
Um... yeah, words are leaking out of my head like the air from a punctured inner tube. Might be a better idea to just... stop talking.
For the Wickedest on my flist, I hit Liir today and while I like the characters well enough, the guy's writing style and scene choice is CONSTANTLY BEMUSING TO ME. I'm currently bored and hoping things improve. I'm sure it surprises no one that I am most interested in Tibbett and what the hell happened to put him so far below the radar, aside from being tied to a Tiger in a club. Going to keep struggling on, and suspect it takes a few reads, but dfajsdahsj.
Do I have to?...yeah, okay, so my mother should stop talking to me now.