My New Closet

I moved. I was living at Spauldo's place, in the basement. The basement was bliss. I loved the basement. Alas, Spauldo moved back to that black hole of a state, Oklahoma. So I moved. I moved to wanker's place, which is an efficiency. An efficiency is like, one room, generally L shaped. The kitchen is on one side of the L, and the rest of the place in in the other part, with the bathroom finishing out the square. It's tiny. Tiny like there is no place in the whole apartment where you could play darts without somebody saying you were cheating and standing too close. It's me, Wanker, Tara, and Wankers 4 year old son, Dyllan. Tight quarters, but it's all I could do until I get a full time job and can afford to get my own closet. Wanker is super cool for letting me crash here, tho. He saved me from having to go back to (shudder) Oklahoma.

Security Shoes

So I have a new job, kinda. I work 3 hours a day, 5 days a week. Cleaning floors at a discount store place. Feh. I dustmop half the store while somebody else does the other half. Then one of us grabs the big battery-powered self propelled floor scrubber, and the other one follows him with the propane-powered noisy ass buffer. Oh, and somebody vacuums the shoe area. Feh, indeed. This brings me to the topic. The first day I was there, I heard 'security shoes' come over the PA system 12 times. 12 times in 3 hours. As if the Worst Hits Of The 80's radio station they play wasn't bad enough. Feh.

current music: Nothing. I mention this because I only brought my computer over to this new place to help wanker get his cable modem working, and I have no speakers.