reallyam

Just when I do talk I say too much. I think I got it from my “L”, but she talks too much as well as saying too much. Blast her confounded influence! Whenever I say anything I feel compelled to elaborate, so that what I’ve said is not misunderstood in any way. Just keep going on and on…

I spent today walking around town dropping in applications for myriad jobs. Nothing is likely to be worse than what I currently do. I have a problem in that I have no CV and no experience. I wouldn’t hire me with the information I’m giving them. Well tomorrow’s work, then Sunday’s Sunday. Anyway, Monday I guess I’ll find more places to apply. By Tuesday I’ll have exhausted the places I can comfortably walking, so I’ll turn to the papers and recruitmenty places and people. So forth until I get something. If I get offered something I’ll take it. I’m not an inordinately picky person I think.

I have been trying. Honest. But alas, I continue to stray. My Dad stocks chocolate bars in a top kitchen cupboard. I keep raiding it. I went to the supermarket to get ten dollars’ worth, with which to replace those I had pilfered, but I came out with chips. I returned a couple of days later, but got sidetracked.
My thought process ran thus: fullsized chocolate bars grams per cent; snacksized chocolate bars g/c; afghans g/c; 100s and 1000s biscuits g/c; “snax” crackers g/c; “mealmates” crackers g/c; Japanese rice crackers g/c; cabin bread grams per cent. I came out with five boxes of cabin bread.
But today I forced myself. I didn’t go wandering through the shop, I marched straight up to the stand that sells them for 88cents each, and grabbed eleven chocolate bars, and purchased them, and walked out. I came home with ten. When my dad came home several hours later, there were nine chocolate bars sitting on the kitchen bench. There may (with luck) be seven now. He had one, I had one. Actually, I think there are six left. So much for self control.