So I’m here and reporting for work. I still don’t like working full-time and would prefer part-time because I’m so used to staying at home, where I’m needed to do chores, errands, and to taxi of two elderly folks and care for three parakeets. Dad does the gardening.
My bad allergies have been under control with antihistamines. But I still have that itchy feeling inside my chest, slightly too the right, where my “pearl” resides. I’d cough slightly to release that bronchial spasm.
My mucus isn’t infected and it’s clear. So, it’s not a cold. I expect my booster shot from two years ago to work it’s miracle. I’ve not died yet from medicines, vaccines, chemicals, and other bad foods, or by other poisonous means. It’s really a slow death.
Anyway, I don’t like doing the collections portion of my accounts receivable coordinator position. It’s because of my personal experience that thieves don’t care if they take what doesn’t belong to them.
If they don’t pay, then they’re pricks, especially big companies, who can’t fix their problems and blame the hard-workers for goofs by, you guess it, other hard-workers.
Now it’s time to slave away, err, earn money. I really expect Sabrina to come back from her maternity leave in mid-October. I don’t want to work here. Hurry!
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