But You Can't Take the Sky From Meeee.

I may be wrong, but I think I'm actually starting to get addicted to this thing. We might need an intervention soon.

scene:
Me sitting crouched over with claw-like fingers tip-tapping across the keyboard like some vicious perpetual riverdance.

Pan over to a group of figures silhouetted by my sunny window, curtains drawn, as they've opened them.

Close up on me hissing in disdain of the natural light hiding my unnatural soothing computer light.

Them: You need help.

Me: You don't know meeeeeeeee! *shriek, run away, monitor trailing behind me*

Okay, so maybe it won't be that dramatic. But think of the possibilities! I could actually go into a vicious mind-numbing withdrawl!

Speaking of vicioius and mind-numbing. I just got back from work where, for eight hours, I stocked accessories. Belts wrapped in bags wrapped in bigger bags. Hose put in boxes put in bigger boxes. Purses stuck in plastic wrapped in bigger plastic. The tagging of purses and wallets. And, my favorite, the one belt wrapped in a bag, bubble wrapped at the buckle, and put in a long, wide box. I opened it and stared numbly into what my fate had become.

I need another job.

A better job.
A job that doesn't entail either putting out stock or picking up doo doo and puke from the floors of the store.
A job where human contact isn't necessary.

currently: misguided

current picture: