Talking can only give you away.

Mother's Day makes me very, very tired. A ten hour shift at a florist also makes me very, very tired. These things are contingent upon each other. Some things I would have loved to ask in a very exapserated manner to about half the people I dealt with today:
1. How is it that you DON'T KNOW WHERE YOUR OWN MOTHER LIVES?
2. How exactly do you expect us to deliver your flowers if YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE THEY'RE GOING? We may be miracle workers, but we're not magic.

I currently live and work in squalor. Work is a perpetual mess. I am so tired from trying to clean up this mess that when I get home, I can't be bothered to rinse the pot that has been sitting in the sink for the last two days before I go to bed. I do not get enough sleep. I drink too much coffee and not enough water. I spend too much time standing and am giving myself carpel tunnel. I hope, one day, to make millions of dollars in the stock market (BioDiesel, of course) so that I can effectively be an un-starving artist and never work in a flower shop before a major woman-holiday again. I hope.