My neighbor's great grandfather out on the steps smoking like a chimney. Though he still looks young enough to be her grandfather his body is all broken down from decades of working as a carnival ride operator. They have to help assemble the rides not just pull levers so it isn't as easy as it looks. I can't bring myself to ask him to stand around the corner. Taking it out back might prove to be the very last exercise thing he ever does and I don't want to be held responsible.
How much I miss the kids even though I've only been home a short time, saw them just a few hours ago, and will see one of them again this afternoon. So it's completely over reactionary ridiculous.
Still being heavy despite losing a fair amount of weight. I wish there was some Valley of the Dolls type clinic I could check myself into, sleep off all the pounds, and then wake up all fresh and new revitalized from.
Whether or not I should convert. It just seems like so much stuff I'd have to replace, and sheer overwhelming the amount of money all of it would cost. There should be a kit. You pay a small set fee, open the box and it's all there, all the stuff you need to practice your new religion, or well recycled one.
Who am I? Job? Seriously what did I ever do to merit all this crushing, overwhelming poverty? Certainly nothing that good so I should be flush with cash. Well at least temporarily. Till I find myself locked in the belly of some great big fish or something.
How I am ever going to wake up early enough to clean this place before J gets here after staying up all night. I wish it was like the Jetsons – Rosie, where are you?
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