Everything was going just fine last week. A crisp fall breeze was in the air, I that that wart on my foot is finally going away, and I was looking forward to a final countdown of old, icky job and starting a new, amazing job.
Then the drama started. Without getting into details, I'm caught up in a web of manipulation and chaos that I've been running from since my teenage years. The separation has gotten harder to maintain and I'm out of ideas as to what the fuck I'm supposed to do next.
So once again, I choose to do next to nothing. It seems the best avenue for self preservation. That's the goal, right? RIGHT!??!
But the guilt is plentiful and runs deeps. There's the rub.
In other news, I saw a woman on the T last night wearing black stirrup pants with the stirrups hooked BEHING her high heels. I cannot get the imagine out of my head. It's like she was trying to channel an S&M 80's style. No, there was no ball gag but still...she was one whip away from an episode of Saved By The Bell gone horribly, terribly wrong.
If I had been thinking, I would have snapped a picture. I'm so sorry I did not. You know, for your sake.
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