Monday, March 13, 2006

Run away! Run away!

I'm 'bout to quit this job. I cannot survive on what they're paying me. I am not good at it. I thought I would be, but I thought I'd be a good wife, too. And we see where that got me. So all my stuff is packed up on my desk. I can't decide if I want to stay the rest of the day. My personal life has interfered with my job. I just am not cut out for this. Which makes me sad. But oh fucking well.