you know it

Goddamn right I do.

My dad called me back tonight. From a restaurant. I asked him about the two sets of mixing bowls. Apparently he realized that he'd already sent me one immediately after spending a truly ridiculous amount of money (a dollar amount that he was careful to share with me, of course) in order to get the other box to me before Christmas. So now I am telling myself that I'm not going to feel guilty because he stupidly felt obligated to spend more money on shipping that box than he could possibly have spent on all of my Christmas presents combined (including both sets of mixing bowls). Especially not if getting the box o' socks to Randy was his main priority (as he claimed it was). And fuck me, I'm done thinking about this.

I'm going back there for a week on the 14th. What am I doing that for, I'd like to know.

Here's some good news: work is letting me keep my money for the time being. Apparently one of the partners felt that because I am now working part-time and also presumably no longer going to let them squat on my life forever and ever and ever, I should just get fucked. Luckily, the other partner was more reasonable. More proof for my Theory That Worrying Fixes Everything. I am so writing a self-help book.

* * *

I want to apologize for the quality of my blogging lately. Okay, so mostly I just want you all to know that I'm aware that it's awful. Everyone! Important Bulletin! I Am Aware That I Am Gazing Into My Own Navel! Perhaps You'd Like To Take A Look As Well!

Gah.