Almost there. I just have to make it through the rest of the night and tomorrow. Then, if I can survive the weekend, things should be fairly normal again.
Tonight is my third night of chicken nuggets this week. Isn't emptying the freezer grand? Barf.
Why does 7:44 feel like 11:44?
If it rains tomorrow, I don't know what I'll do.
Chasing free streaming episodes of Gilmore Girls to fill my time. Pathetic.
The following is from a brilliant U.S. History professor my freshman year.
"Pocahontas was a juvenile delinquent who jumped the fence and ran around screaming naked. Not yelling that out, but was. John Rolfe took her back to England and she died of small pox at 22. Wouldn't that have made an interesting Disney movie? 'Mommy, Mommy, what's wrong with Pocahontas?' 'She's dying. She's got the pox.' So...what was your favorite part of the movie?"
It's a shame that phrase has lost all meaning. No one writes a letter out of anger and actually has anything done about it anymore. Corporations have the power and money to make you call them instead and then leave you on hold for hours on end. Or, if they're smart, they just repeatedly patch you through to the wrong department until you're so pissed off you hang up.
I was just thinking about all the places I'd like to "write a letter to." For one, I'm working on a research project to increase salary and respect for people in my profession. We work just as hard as the rest of the staff and have just as much training, but aren't taken very seriously. Well, I'm going to write a letter and they won't know what hit them.
Believe it or not, this post is inspired by my husband. I emailed him to say I no longer like Monopoly City Streets because it crawls at a snail's pace. He said he'll "write an email, see what he can do." My knight in shining armor.
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