Sunday Not-so-Fun-Day

So. I worked today. 8 hours. Ugh. Sundays blow, for one, it pissed it down this morning. So we didn't get anyone in for the 1st hour. No one should be open at 9 on a Sunday except the Supermarket and Church. I could've been doing so much better stuff with my time. I honestly, am SO glad that I don't work there anymore. And am even more glad that I leave home in the not too distant future.
I'd like to pause for a moment and express how much I detest rain, or rather, being in it. I had some errands to run, so I did them at 9 because, lets face it, my coworker wasn't about to be rushed off her feet. Anyway, my body is fucking retarded. As soon as rain hits me, my fingers will go white, why is this? Wellll, I have a hereditory disease called Raynauds. Basically, when I get cold, my blood stops circulating to my fingers and toes, thus, bloodless, they go stark white. And they fucking CANE.
Anyway, so I've been running around doing relatively fuckall, but it's nice to see I haven't lost my touch. Its like riding a damn bike. A really awful, easily detestable bike. I would have rather been at home doing nothing, than at work doing nothing. It makes me so mad.

So, last night's saga, since I was a bit scarce on the details;
1) not gonna expand on yesterday. There's no need to bitch.
2) Ontop of afformentioned emotional shit, I had to listen to my mother having sex. I could hear her OVER my music. The walls aren't made of damn concrete you crazed bint.
3) Dad seemed to absorb the idea of a tattoo quite well. Even going to take me to see the tattooist next weekend IF my mother agrees. Would help if she was actually home. I can't complain, I like my solitude. But really, when you need to talk to someone, it helps if their around and have time to spare. She's currently at the BF's, wonder if she'll turn up home tomorrow. Not holding my breath.

And no, I'm not always a cynical fuck. You just get the angst end.
Cry me a fuckin' river.

X