My Life

March 2, 2017

Today I actually had to use my key at work because the doors weren’t already open for me. I found Ross in the back taking a nap already, like he does everyday but it was 10 AM. Before I got there, I went to the gym for 2 hours, I picked up cigarettes and beer for Ross and I to drink while we worked on the store. Nothing ever gets done really, we were behind all day and never actually had the store ready for customers, that’s what we get for being drunk before 11 AM everyday, but people love it and they still come in for some weird reason.

I left early to clean my apartment and check on one of my bars that I run. My mother is coming in to town tomorrow or Saturday? Not really sure about that. Apparently she bought me a new tv because mine is too small. I live by my fucking self. Do I really need a big tv that I’m never going to use? No. But whatever. I guess its really for her so when she comes to visit me she can just watch movies and drink wine without being judged by my dad. They used to be alcoholics, but now they barely drink at all unless one of them is with me but never around each other. They don’t like each other very much now but back when they were alcoholics together, they loved each other.

Anyway, I got my house clean and smelling nice and then I picked up some wine, now I’m at my bar talking to Greg, the manager. He’s alright but I don’t think he appreciates me driving here drunk and then drinking more but I live walking distance so I can always just walk home. Plus, if I walk, the gym is on the way so I can always squeeze in an extra hour, right?

Also, a Pakistani number keeps calling me, pretty sure it’s isis. So wish me luck on not being the next death, right?

Also, this will be a somewhat daily thing, my therapist and my literary agent both think that I should really start keeping better track of my days this way. Apparently, a detailed agenda with random sticky notes all over it, in my bag and all over my desk does not count as keeping track of what I’ve done that day.

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