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- Popped button indicates that seal is broken
It's over, it's over
Now we're over
It's my turn
Now it's over
The game shut down, sorry.
No more shall I rise on a Thursday to see to the tax returns of that community. Six days till the deadline for lodgements and the booking sheet looked extremely stressed. Yet again with the near full day and of course, time was severely displaced. There might be someone in the line-up who mistakenly included their personal records copy with the top half of their payment summary. There was another client who either could not be bothered coming in after having gotten the address of the place or totally forgot all about having a booking. I left about three blank messages before remembering that indeed I did hear a beep. One of the first clients came in on his birthday, one of the very last came in on hers. What a way to spend your birthday, watching some guy wrestle aimlessly with the door handle as he tries to aviod the static shock from walking on the cheap synthetic carpeting. The crackling always managed to sound down the tiny yelps.
As it was my last day one of the ladies in the main area front office told me of the fact that it would be an easy transition from one volunteering gig to another. News to me. Then again, I do have an aversion to Christmas. Next week it starts to pour down on the Smith Family with people ordering hampers.
Life would be so much easier and less depressing with fewer holidays that existed largely on presents and purchasing things. You could of course do what most others do, buy the presents for the kids and just after the twenty-fifth, refund them. Keeping up appearances is so pathetic. Is that a reason to ask why some don't care about getting what everyone else gets? I don't get it.
Saturday, 27 October 2001 - 03:28
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