This journal now spans six months. That's, like, half a year man!
So now it's November I've kind of realised how the last few days of last month sort of just... imploded. It's all so blurry and compact, even the parts (days) when I wasn't blind. I'm pretty sure even during it I was confused as to what day and time it was. Probably partly because everything was so ”go go” for those few days of assignments, shennanigans, and then back to assignments but i'm thinking it's mainly because Sam fucked with (non-summer) convention by having a big party on a friday night.
Anyway, it's a new month now, and even though Steve left work on Friday for the last time (I saluted him and he said ”yeah, you were alright”) the new nightfill manager doesn't start until next week.
In other work related news, the music has been restored and we have music again for the first time in two months. Just in time for Christmas. It's horrendous... I want to cry.
In other work related news, homebrand scourer sponges now have a yellow bit that is a far lighter and more opaque yellow than their previous design.
I can't wait until the Christmas Lights start appearing on every house, and when streets will go overboard in trying to become a tourist attraction and succeed. I'm going to go to one of those streets when they're in full swing, find children and tell them there's no Santa Claus. When their parents try and get in my way I'll tell them there's no God either.
I'm not really going to do that but boy does Christmas (before the 23rd of December) make me angry. I already have been told that I'm going to be attending a large, extended family gathering at this house on Christmas evening. And it will be boring and awkward for me, in my own house! On Christmas! Mum said the only way I'd get out of it is if I had a girlfriend that I had to go visit for Christmas or something.
Ladies, call me. We'll start going out on the 24th. We can go see some Christmas lights.
(I used brackets a bit in this entry).
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The woman with the fake tan stepped into my office, sat across from my desk and lit a cigarette.
At least, she would, sometime in the next 20 minutes. Smelling the future has advantages, but precision isn’t one of them.