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The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation


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sulking day
children of dune - leto 1
seperis
Oh sulks.

Sulks are *useful*. Laugh if you want, but nothing, and I repeat this, *nothing* beats twenty-four hours of feeling desperately sorry for yourself. I love my job. I love my family. I love pretty much everything I do these days, but *damn*, do work-things *have* to hit all at once, I ask you? Bah, bastards. Or better yet, if I could get some time to replenish my chocolate supply.

I had three delinquencies, which means cases that were finished outside the state imposed time limits to workers to finish a case.

This is where problems arise. I'm a very content underachiever in most things. This pleases me. This is what keeps fine lines at bay and grey from the hair. But I sat there, staring at the deliquencies--and two of them were so totally beyond my control that I could *not* have gotten aroudn them, though the third was a lack fo time factor.

But oh anger. Oh shame. Oh, Mel wanting to beat me over the head for going into a fit of pity for myself. *sighs* Oh, rage pain anger. Oh blah blah blah, rivers are cried and tiny, tiny violins play requiems for my ego.

That is just so *sad*.

But wait! Good news.

bigboobedcanuck, the girl of my dreams, posted another chapter of From a Safe Distance, and it is *incredible*.

Beautiful QaFness. She makes me want to write again, except I can't do anything that good. *happy sigh* It'll ache you. read.


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*plays violins for you*

*suspicious* Real ones or tiny invisible ones to mock my angst?

Air-violin, since I don't actually have the skill to play a real one.

I just thought moping should have an appropriate soundtrack. *g* (It actually wasn't meant to be sarcastic or mocking.)

(Deleted comment)
I am so adding sections. I am. And I also stare at it and cry. Both are productive. *g*

Oh, stop! ::blushes::

Have I told you lately that I love you?

*basks* Not lately no. *basks more*

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