It was a disaster guys. Know when it gets so damn filthy that you don’t even wanna be in there. I couldn’t find my makeup on my disaster of a desk. It’s okay now though, because you can see the ground again. I almost said floor. What is the difference, is there a socially acceptable time to use ground over floor, or vice versa?
That’s my finished product. Temporary of course, because between the three of us things just cannot stay this way. But at least I can find a clean freakin q-tip. Gosh. Boss had a bath too, nice long day of cleaning shit up. Good times. It’s—kind of cleansing. Sleep comes easier in a clean room.
Know what else I need to clean? My life. i.e., my job. I need to get out of there. Things are too… too elementary, Watson. I want to work somewhere where drama ceases to exist. I know this is a far fetched dream. But I want colleagues who are colleagues and not drama queens. This would be great. If I could just do what I need to do and go home. I need my own business. That’s what I need. I need my bakery, my cafe/library. It will be the best damn thing for all you coffee drinkin’ Mockingbird reading folks. Girl can dream, huh?
<3
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