Jesus Christ, I had forgotten the unique joys of my private practice. Went to a business meeting this afternoon. Figured we were looking at 90 minutes, maybe two hours tops if there was a lot of discussion. But no. Four hours later I was still there and this one person was still TALKING AND TALKING AND TALKING ABOUT NOTHING while everyone else smiled politely with glazed expressions. It was handy that I had Botox yesterday as I was able to register no emotion whatsoever and only interjected when the person started making noises about how we should schedule an even longer meeting for next time.
How about no. How about let’s try to be efficient so we can all get some work done.
I am finally home. It is too late to go out and buy fuses so the whole flat is in darkness again and this is probably just as well as it means I can’t see the swarm of fruit flies in the kitchen.
I hate my life right now. I just want to clean my house. I don’t understand why this is too much to ask. If it doesn’t get cleaned soon I will have to burn it down, it is a health hazard. Maybe if I burn my house down then the Inland Revenue will think I’m dead and I won’t have to do my tax returns. Two birds, one stone.