David sent me some letters, and they arrived today. I nearly had some sort of hysterical fit as I realized what they were and tried to get the envelope open. They go back to early February, and extend up through two days or so ago. I was very glad to get them, but at the same time, I think my stress level has risen considerably. He said good things. He made good points. There are good reasons for us to be broken up right now. But their being good doesn't make me like them, and it doesn't make me want to be with him any less. I hate that tight feeling I get in my chest, from the skin over my sternum straight through my ribcage and my heart to the skin behind my spine.
In other news, Turbo Tax "does not recognize" my username. You know, the one that's the same as my email address, the one I used to log in two days ago, and the one Turbo Tax just emailed me five minutes ago. So that means I can't finish my taxes, and I can't file an extension either, unless I go through another website and, you know, PAY AGAIN. I hate everything.
Here is what I planned to write about today, before I got home and read a bunch of letters and discovered that Turbo Tax sucks more than expected.
Here's what I do at work:
set up cases
operate cash register
make prepared items
>and so on
stand behind the counter and stare into space
sit on the floor and stare into space
cupid shuffle, practice belly dancing when no one is looking. It's like a variation on stealth disco.