They do not care about us evening shifters here at work and we are left behind in the wake of the dayshifters to shiver and shake in the chilly office air.
So I have taken to wearing a hat. Indoors. At work. Constantly. Keeps the heat in.
Also, Henry tried to send me a picture of his weener and I thought it was poop. I can’t believe he thought I was the type of girl who would appreciate camera-phoned genitalia.
Also part 2: I am going to print out my Franklin’s Bar story and staple it to telephone poles around town and then wait and see if something happens. I hope something happens. Like, the townies erupting into a torch-bearing revolt.