Hello all.
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Ok, so right now, here’s how I’m feeling: restless. I’m at work, and I’m all caught up, and I’m completely alone in the building, and I’m bored senseless. I’m listening to my iTunes (yes, in a church building. Currently I’m hearing “What Doesn’t Kill You (Makes You Stronger)” and desk-dancing to it) I’m dying to text someone and check in to say hi. Almost anyone will do at this point.
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Man, I wish I could dance. My favorite self-disparaging remark on my dancing talent is that I move like the Tin Man getting electrocuted. I’m listing to “Dynomite” now, and I’d love to be up and moving instead of sitting here typing and tapping my toe and bobbing my head and shoulders. That’s about the extent of my rhythmic abilities.
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Next up, “Firework.” I would so love to sing this one at karaoke. And I think I will, eventually. We’re having karaoke at the next family reunion if I have to sell a kidney on the black market. At least I can sing here at work. It goes over a lot better in an empty church building than behind the counter at the register at the UPS Store. (That’s where I worked before, and where I plan on spending a few Saturdays leading up to Christmas. Extra funds for gifts for the spoiled rotten offspring, you know.)
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I actually love the freedom of this job. I can come in and leave whenever I want. I can bring my kid with me and homeschool him. I can listen to music and sing, and hope someone doesn’t come down the hall and surprise me making a fool of myself. As long as I get my tasks done and don’t do anything sinful in the process, they don’t care. I literally write and sign my own paycheck. It’s actually kinda weird.
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And finally, we’re hearing “Fire Burning” by Sean Kingston. This is another one I’d kill to be able to dance to, no kidding. Maybe I ought to just check into lessons or something.
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Ok, well, must go now, because my co-worker/boss will be here shortly and requires my assistance to follow him over to the tire shop and give him a ride back over here, so I’d better go clean out my embarrassing car. The inside isn’t even the most embarrassing part. The worst part is the horrible screeching grinding sound my brakes are making continuously, even when I’m not braking. I really need that looked at, but I can’t afford it right now. Y’all can pray they don’t fail at the most inopportune moment and get me killed.
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Thanks for listening to my ramble along with my dance party playlist. More later. Holla! 🙂
Until next time,
D.
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