Wednesday, 23 January 2019

Your Mid-Week Update for 01/23/19

Listen. I know I talked about my recurring nightmare last week and my fears for my future and the future of my family and in all honesty, those worries (and the nightmare) are still there. But I don’t want this blog to simply be a place I vent the feelings I’m too scared to fully express to my family. I don’t want to constantly be weighing down my dear readers with talk of death and loss and fear.

So this week, I’m just going to tell you about a recent kill I actually committed.

It still involves death and loss and fear. Just none of mine so it’s okay.

Highlight of my week: I discovered that you can actually be scared to death. Of course, you can’t just kill anyone. An unknown predisposition to anxiety and/or a weak heart certainly helps the process. I decided to go for anxiety and – unintentionally – killed a girl without actually dealing a deadly blow.

I feel horrible for playing into contemporary sexism and genuine fears that a lot of women face. I do have an apprehension about being alone with a strange man or when someone follows me (as I am following someone). My fears are less about rape and murder and kidnapping and more about being caught committing murder. And sometimes, I see an opportunity to play into genuine fear for my own gain and I kind of feel bad.

I still do it though.

I was walking down the street looking for a new kill when I overheard a man clearly about to do something he shouldn’t be doing and the woman was trying to get away but couldn’t. So I stepped in and got her out of there easily enough because men who feel the need to prey on vulnerable people lose all their power when even one person steps in. I escorted her away from the situation and convinced her that she’d be safer if I walked her to her car which was several blocks away (downtown parking, ladies and gentlemen). Along the way, I started asking more and more personal questions about what she did, who she was with, who was waiting for her at home, any pre-existing conditions. Already shaky from her unwanted encounter, as I continued to pester her, ignoring her requests for quiet or privacy, she began to hyperventilate. As we got closer to her car, I started physically separating her from other people on the street so she was walking against the wall and couldn’t slip away or get someone’s attention. When we came to a clear alleyway, I suggested a shortcut and she really had no choice but to comply. Once we were out of public view, she took off running, in an attempt to escape whatever it is I was ominously suggesting. Of course on the other side of the alley was my darling husband who had been following my phone’s GPS and greeted a terrified runaway with open arms. And then held her in place while I caught up to her and warned that running away would not help matters. When she tried to scream, we held her mouth shut while I reached for the knife in my purse.

And then she collapsed in James’ arms and stopped moving. I’ll admit, we kind of froze for a minute. What do you even do then? You can’t call 9-1-1 but I didn’t want to leave her lying there. So we put her in the car and took her to one of our favourite spots for dismemberment and burial. While I rode in the back with her, I examined her body to see if I could figure out why she’d died so suddenly and the only conclusion I could come to was that she’d died of a heart attack.

Aka: she was scared to death.

Cool and terrifying.

As is most of my life.

So that was something that happened this week. Thought I’d share. It also isn’t the most uplifting tale of murder but at least there’s a little more disconnect so I’m not going to have nightmares about it. Hopefully.

Who knows these days.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 16 January 2019

Your Mid-Week Update for 01/16/19

For years, I've had this dream - a fantasy really. It's not every night. Just every once in a while, I remember that it's there.

There is a person sitting in an empty room on a wooden chair. I think it's a man but they have a burlap bag over their head. Above them is a single light bulb that swings when I open the door. I step inside and I'm holding a tool. It changes but it's always a tool I can use to hurt someone. Most recently, it was a hammer. It's so quiet inside the room that the only sound is my footsteps and even those don't sound quite right. They sound distant; foggy. But with each step forward, the sound becomes louder and the man in the chair can definitely hear me because they start to struggle against duct tape that binds their hands together and to the chair. I imagine they're gagged under the hood as well because as I get closer, they try to scream but it's nothing but mumbles and wordless grunts. Somehow I know they're not yet pleading for their life...but I want them to. That's why I have the tool in my hand. The hammer is there so I can use it to hurt someone. 

That’s not an unfamiliar feeling, wanting to make someone scream. But this time I’m scared, nervous, like my first time but somehow worse. My hands are shaking. Now I’m standing right behind them and they’re trying so hard to break free but they can’t. I know no matter what they do, they will never escape. I place a hand on their shoulder and I can feel all the muscles down their back contract, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. I never hear them exhale. I squeeze their shoulder because…because I want to comfort them. I don’t want to do this. That’s why I’m scared. But I have to. I have go through with whatever it is I’m about to do. Because…

I don’t know why. I just know that I have to do this. As much as it hurts. My hands shake even more as a raise the hammer above my head. When I bring it down, I don’t hit their skull. Instead, I shatter the very shoulder I once held in comfort. They scream out in pain and I watch in almost fascination at the misshapen limb under their shirt. No blood soaks through but I know underneath, their skin is purple and black and green. Their screams become sobs but I continue with my work. On their left side, I swing the hammer back like a golf club and hit their elbow with as much force as I can muster. This time there is blood as their arm falls limp and the cries only grow louder. Through their shirt, a piece of their elbow bone as cracked and pierced the skin. The urge to release them and run away from this place takes hold of my heart and I can’t breathe. Tears are welling up in my eyes but I blink them back and make quick work of their fingers bound together in one convenient location. The digits fall limp but the rest of the body that isn’t already destroyed tenses in agony. Agony. That is the word I would use. And the pain they feel ripples through my own body. Very quickly, I place a kiss on their shattered knuckle. They flinch from my touch and I don’t blame them, but I feel a rejection and the sense that they don’t understand why I’m doing this. I’m not sure I do myself but I’m so sure in my need to go through with this torture that I continue.

I walk around to face them and before they can react to my new location, I turn the hammer over and jam the end into the top of their thigh, careful to miss their major artery. I know exactly where it is, too. If I wanted to kill them, to put them out of their misery, I know exactly where to hurt them. But instead, I let them cry out and sink into the pain, conscious of all their other injuries. There is no reprieve when I pull my weapon out of their body and prepare for the next blow. This time, I aim for their ankles, pushing in the bones until they have no hope of standing upright. Possibly ever again. Assuming they survive. Somehow, I know they will. Despite my actions, I am ensuring their life. What does that mean?

As I reach their feet, I grow more frantic. This is the last of it, I know. I can’t stop the tears that fall as I strike the first blow. The next swings are less controlled but just as brutal. One. Two. Three. Four. My arms are tired but I continue on, destroying both feet without any hope of escape – for either of us.

Right before I wake up, I lean forward and whisper in their ear through loud, open sobs.

“Now they won’t know the truth.”

Yesterday, when I opened my eyes, I was holding James’ shoulder so hard that I pierced the skin in three places. He was trying to wake me up but nothing happened until I had finished my work. I was crying a little and hyperventilating. I didn’t bother to hide the fact that I’d had the same monstrous nightmare again. He’s known about them for years but this was the worst one yet. It still sits in the back of my mind. I’m still pouring over what exactly it means. Who was that person I tortured to the brink of death? Why was this saving them?

I know you’re thinking that it’s James in my dream but I started having it before I met him. Who knows, maybe it changes, maybe it’s a generic representation of something I’m meant to understand. All I know is that I’ve had the dream twice this month and that’s the most it’s ever come around. I remember it when I’m at work and I go to the bathroom to cry. Readers, this dream is one of the few things in the universe that truly scares me. Perhaps because I don’t understand it. What terrifies me is that one day I will get up the courage to take off the hood and I’ll still have to hurt them. Will they know then?

I don’t know that I believe in prophetic dreams, but I know that this dream never brings anything good into my life. And if it’s getting worse…

I can’t bear to think.

What am I going to do?

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 9 January 2019

Your Mid-Week Update for 01/09/19

I sometimes wonder if sentimentality will ultimately be my downfall. Being heartless or intentionally cruel seems to be the hallmark of my profession and while I am both heartless and intentionally cruel at times, I don’t know that I could bring myself to live the way that I am meant to. There is a stereotype among the serial killer community – if a mix of media and obsessive fanatics can be called a community. We don’t have weekly meetings to discuss technique. Although, that would be an excellent way to rid myself of all competition; I must consider that next time I come across a fellow psychopath.

There is a stereotype among the serial killer community of being isolated and unfeeling, taking often sexual pleasure from murder or pain. Or there is an element of curiosity at the human condition. How much can one person endure? I have experienced all those things – James can attest to sexual pleasure on several occasions – but I never thought I fully fit into the vision of what a serial killer should be. Why we have created a set image around what a sequential murderer should be is a little troubling in my mind but it exists nonetheless.

Rarely do you hear instances of real killers who have families and seem well adjusted in their neighbourhood. I pride myself as an anomaly but I can’t help but wonder sometimes if I would be better off without the burden of another life in which I am loved and respected. Life would be much simpler if I were a lonely, maladjusted citizen, living out of a van who the neighbours are kind of scared of but say “I always knew someone was off” when I finally get arrested.

That’s the dream anyway.

Someone has been following Jason. He came home and told me yesterday that he is certain someone has been following him around for the last few weeks. Since before Christmas. And he is telling me now. While I understand he wanted to be sure, I still don’t like that I am just finding out about this. Apparently someone, he thinks it’s a woman but he can’t be sure, has been parked across from his work and then following him home on and off. Once or twice, he’s seen someone entering and exiting a store at the same time as him. That alone might not be enough to arouse suspicion but combined with the following him home, and three hang up calls to the house, I’m worried. And I want him to be alert as well but I can’t have my son fearing for his life.

I wonder if James’ friend is as off the case as he says he is. Maybe he’s got a partner. Maybe it’s Daniel all over again. I don’t think I could handle that. It did not end well the last time and I don’t think my heart could take it again.

I sometimes wonder what my career as a killer would be like if I didn’t have a family to worry about. Would I be more or less successful without someone to come home to at night? To protect my secrets and support my urges. To fear losing every time someone else comes close to discovering my secret.

Sometimes it’s more than I can bear.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Friday, 4 January 2019

Series Tour for Power of Five by Alex Lidell

I am so excited that the POWER OF FIVE Series by Alex Lidell is complete with LERA OF LUNOS available now and that I get to share the news!
If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful series by Author Alex Lidell, be sure to check out all the details below.
This blitz also includes a giveaway for a $10 Amazon GC, International, A set of the eBooks, International, & a POWER OF FIVE Journal, US only, courtesy of Alex and Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, enter in the Rafflecopter at the bottom of this post.

About the series:

Title: LERA OF LUNOS (Power of Five #4)
Author: Alex Lidell
Pub. Date: January 4, 2019
Publisher: Danger Bearing Press
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 192
Find it: GoodreadsAmazon

Read For FREE With Kindle Unlimited!

Two immortal realms on brink of war. One mortal standing in their way.

With the quint squaring off against the king of Slait, Lera is running out of time to tame her feral magic. Worse still, just when the quint must weave together to survive, demons from Tye’s past surface to tear them apart. Demons he fears facing, let alone sharing with Lera.

But when Griorgi makes a move that no one expects, throwing River, Shade, and Coal’s lives into question, the clock runs out. Lera and Tye have no choice but to fight their battles within—or risk losing Lunos and their quint forever.

LERA OF LUNOS is a full-length reverse-harem fantasy novel, the stunning finale to the Amazon-bestselling, KU-All Star POWER OF FIVE series.

Title: TRIAL OF THREE (Power of Five #3)
Author: Alex Lidell
Pub. Date: September 26, 2018
Publisher: Danger Bearing Press
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 192
Find it: GoodreadsAmazon

Read For FREE With Kindle Unlimited!

Four cords of power. Three trials. Two soul-crushing secrets. 

For Lera, training has never been so hard. With the males’ power roaring in her veins and River’s cold demand that she master the magic before the third trial, something has to give. Worse still, River is keeping something from her. Something about his past and Lunos’s future.

For River and Coal, the past must stay buried. Though one male’s nightmare sits on a throne and the other’s hides in his soul, they are equally unprepared for Lera’s startling determination to undress the truth.

But when Mors’s Emperor Jawrar makes a play for Lunos, neither Lera’s fledgling magic nor the males’ old wounds can remain untouched—not if their world is to survive.

TRIAL OF THREE is a full-length reverse-harem fantasy novel, third in the Amazon bestselling, KU-All Star POWER OF FIVE series. 

Title: MISTAKE OF MAGIC (Power Of Five #2)
Author: Alex Lidell
Pub. Date: June 29, 2018
Publisher: Danger Bearing Press
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 193
Find it: GoodreadsAmazon

Read For FREE With Kindle Unlimited!

Three trials stand between Lera and exile. Unless the training kills her first.

Quint magic has never chosen a human before, and the Elders Council is convinced Lera is a mistake. 

When the quint refuses to be cleaved apart, the enraged elders give them a choice: exile from Lunos or demotion to the lowest of trainees. Subject again to the humiliations and deadly trials they endured centuries ago, the males now face a new challenge—training Lera to survive. 

River, Shade, Coal, and Tye will do whatever it takes to keep Lera safe. But Lera will do whatever she must to keep them together—even if it means putting herself in mortal danger.

Author: Alex Lidell
Pub. Date: May 4, 2018
Publisher: Danger Bearing Press
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 312
Find it: GoodreadsAmazon

Read For FREE With Kindle Unlimited!

Four elite fae warriors. One mortal female. A magical bond they can’t allow—or resist. 

Orphaned and sold to a harsh master, Lera’s life is about mucking stalls, avoiding her master’s advances, and steering clear of the mystical forest separating the mortal and fae worlds. Only fools venture into the immortal realms, and only dark rumors come out... Until four powerful fae warriors appear at Lera’s barn. 

River, Coal, Tye, and Shade have waited a decade for their new fifth to be chosen, the wounds from their quint brother’s loss still raw. But the magic has played a cruel trick, bonding the four immortal warriors to... a female. A mortal female. 

Distractingly beautiful and dangerously frail, Lera can only be one thing—a mistake. Yet as the males bring Lera back to the fae lands to sever the bond, they discover that she holds more power over their souls than is safe for anyone... especially for Lera herself. 

Power of Five is a full-length reverse-harem fantasy novel. 

Excerpt of Power of Five

“Is this why you tried to stop my hunt?” Zake snarls into my face. “You wanted to intercept the immortal before he reached me?” His meaty hand turns me around, pressing my head against the barn’s side as the belt uncoils behind me. “What did you offer him, wench? Your maidenhead? Tell me the truth now, girl—it will only hurt more if you lie.”

“I’m not lying,” I say, my body already bracing for the coming blows. “Zake—” I clamp my mouth shut as the belt whistles through the air. There is no stopping this now, and little reason to waste breath that I’ll need shortly.

A furious growl rips through the air. Just when my back is supposed to explode in flame, a dark shape hurtles out of nowhere. Before I can blink, Zake is in the dirt, a large wolf prowling over him. The wolf’s lips pull back, revealing wet canines that glitter in the sun, its thick gray pelt and black muzzle bringing me straight back to last night’s dream.

I gasp, stepping away—and knock right into a wall of muscle and maleness. Tye, the smiling red-haired fae male, is no longer amused. The green-eyed stare he gives Zake is filled with the promise of violence. Not that there will be much of Zake left if the wolf has his way.

“What’s going on back here?” says a quiet voice. A new fae male strides out of the stable, this one dressed in warrior black and sporting a glare that says he’s one breath away from razing the whole estate to the ground. If Tye is an overgrown adolescent, the newcomer is a deadly killer, with long blond hair tied up in a bun, a chiseled jaw, and piercing blue eyes that seem to strip me and find me wanting in one glance. The wicked-looking blades strapped to his waist and back complete the effect.

“Just a wee misunderstanding,” says Tye. “I have it handled.”

The warrior snorts. “That’d be a first.”

Tye sighs in a long-suffering way. “Lera, this is Coal. Try to ignore him the best you can.”

Coal crosses his arms, his eyes finishing their examination of the soon-to-be-dead Zake and the salivating wolf before coming to a stop on my face.

As with Tye, a ripple of recognition races through me, though I’m certain I’ve never seen this male before. My instincts scream at me to run, even as the male’s eyes draw me toward him, the corded muscles of his forearms and shoulders making my breath quicken.

“Time to go, lass,” Tye murmurs into the back of my neck. A command. An invitation. A challenge.
Murderous fae. Mystwood. Broken bones.

My heart pounds, even as my body feels the rightness of Tye’s words and aches to accept them. I swallow, feeling as though the male has claimed me already. And not just him. Five, my soul seems to whisper.

Five what?

Five. There should be five. Has to be five.

About Alex:
Alex Lidell is the Amazon Breakout Novel Awards finalist author of THE CADET OF TILDOR (Penguin, 2013). She is an avid horseback rider, a (bad) hockey player, and an ice-cream addict. Born in Russia, Alex learned English in elementary school, where a thoughtful librarian placed a copy of Tamora Pierce’s ALANNA in Alex’s hands. In addition to becoming the first English book Alex read for fun, ALANNA started Alex’s life long love for YA fantasy books. Alex is represented by Leigh Feldman of Leigh Feldman Literary. She lives in Washington, DC.

Join Alex's newsletter for news, bonus content and sneak peeks: 

Giveaway Details:

1 winner will win a $10 Amazon GC International.
1 winner will receive a POWER OF FIVE Journal, US Only.
1 winner will receive the complete POWER OF FIVE series in eBooks, International.

Tour Schedule:
Week One:
1/4/2019- Under the Book CoverReview-Power of Five
1/4/2019- Writer of WrongsExcerpt- Power of Five

Week Two:
1/7/2019- Loie DunnReview-Power of Five        
1/7/2019- Texan Holly ReadsExcerpt- Power of Five       

1/8/2019- BookHoundsExcerpt- Power of Five 
1/8/2019- Two Chicks on BooksExcerpt- Power of Five  

1/9/2019- Good Choice ReadingExcerpt-Power of Five 
1/9/2019- Adventures Thru WonderlandExcerpt- Lera of Lunos

1/10/2019- A Gingerly ReviewReview-Power of Five      
1/11/2019- Burgandy IceExcerpt- Lera of Lunos

Week Three:
1/14/2019- Smada's Book SmackReview- Complete Series
1/14/2019- Books a Plenty Book ReviewsReview- Complete Series

1/15/2019- Reese's ReviewsReview- Complete Series
1/15/2019- ParajunkeeExcerpt- Lera of Lunos

1/16/2019- Book-KeepingReview- Complete Series
1/16/2019- Jaime's WorldExcerpt- Lera of Lunos

1/17/2019- BookbriefsReview- Complete Series
1/17/2019- AbooktropolisReview- Power of Five or Complete Series

1/18/2019- Love in a time of FeminismReview- Complete Series

1/18/2019- Eli to the nthReview- Power of Five or Complete Series

Wednesday, 2 January 2019

Your Mid-Week Update for 01/02/2019

New year, same me, same resolve to make drastic changes in my life - a resolve that will be faded by the end of the week.

To be honest, it has already faded so I don't know how Day Two bodes for the coming year. So I don't want to talk about resolutions, I want to talk about this really cool murder I committed on New Years Eve, right as the clock struck midnight.

Why I was killing on New Years instead of ringing in 2019 with my family or friends, takes some explaining.

In lieu of a a company Christmas party, some of the office workers decided to rent out a section of a quieter pub on New Years Eve (relatively quiet considering the date; but it was tucked away and not well known so the crowds were minimal and the service was trying. They served really good fried pickles though). We all gathered and planned to ring in the new year with the co-workers we actually liked and their spouses whom we tolerated - my husband included. Jason was celebrating with his friends but agreed to call a little after midnight to check in and exchange pleasantries. Most of us were fairly intoxicated by 10 and it only got worse from there. Where some of us knew to keep the buzz but not go any further. Others did not know better but they should have. One of them was Bob's husband Carl who hit on or aggressively complimented all the women - we're not quite sure what his intentions were. He was harmless enough but there was a woman from accounting who got very drunk, Katie, and decided to pick a fight with Heather. Something about her botching a sales report last quarter but really, we think she just wanted an excuse to punch someone. I say "we" because James and I still talk about it.

Heather is okay. Bruised and confused but okay. Katie was arrested for assault and public intoxication though Heather dropped the charges in exchange for Katie covering her shift for the next few Fridays. I think Heather was being too nice but then again, I probably might have killed Katie. Oh wait...

So James ended up leaving the party to take Katie to the local station for processing, leaving me alone very close to midnight.

After the little incident, the party broke off into small factions - after the bar manager asked us to leave, we could all decided where to go next. Heather, myself, and one other girl on her own Sara, decided to walk down the street and see if there were other establishments where we could ring in the new year. Now, while Heather and I were reasonably well-dressed for the frozen weather, Sara was not and she quickly gave up the search for alcohol in favor of hailing a taxi and going home. So then it was just Heather and I, and by 11:45, we were fairly...not-sober.

I gotta tell you guys, party drinking isn't a "young person" thing, it's an "everybody who needs it" thing and while 2018 was not the worst year I've ever had, it was worth some shots. Screwdrivers are amazing. Just saying.

So Heather and I are stumbling down the street looking for some place that will take us in so we can ring in the new year and wouldn't you know: someone tried to be a jackass right around midnight. Another drunk someone bumped into us, decided that was our fault and pulled a knife, wanting to take our purses. Don't be publicly stupid, people, it just makes my job easier. Heather got scared and froze - a perfectly valid response to fear - while I got aggressive and pulled both of them into a nearby alley.

It was the first time in a long time I killed while someone watched - someone who wasn't my husband. I don't think it's sexual but there is a sense of satisfaction that comes from doing something so powerful, knowing someone is watching and not feeling fear. And I wasn't afraid. Even if I was sober, I don't think Heather would tell on me. Of course she doesn't know my complete story, and still doesn't, but I think she knows the type of person I am and she supports me. I gotta admit, it is nice to have a friend.

I guess I did ring in the New Year with people. One was getting their head smashed in with a piece of two-by-four, doused in gasoline, and set on fire, while another watched someone get their head smashed in, doused in gasoline, and set on fire. It would have been nice to kiss James at midnight instead of drinking another bottle of wine on my way out of the liquor store. Otherwise, that was an enjoyable New Years celebration for me.

I hope you all had an enjoyable time ringing in the new year.

Here's to 2019 being less shitty than 2018.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday, 26 December 2018

Your Mid-Week Update for 12/26/18

So…Christmas was yesterday. It was nothing like I planned and I absolutely hate when things don’t go according to plan. But I’m standing here…sitting at my desk, working the skeleton shift at work so there are three people here and I am exhausted.

First of all, this was the first Christmas in years that wasn’t spent with my family in my own home. No matter what family we’re currently speaking with and allowing into our personal space, Christmas morning is always spent in my house. While I understand why we had to drive over to my parent’s, I still didn’t like that particular change. Being at home is grounding and the holidays are…not grounding…and I have enough problems going on that others can accommodate me on this thing. So I was away from home.

And I was spending the day with my sister and parents for the first time in many years (considering my sister was in prison for almost a decade) except for the very uncomfortable meal I had last year with her and her parole officer. I don’t know the type of person my sister is – except that whatever her new parole officer thinks, she’s not entirely reformed – and that makes it difficult to trust her. Especially around Jason who seems to respectfully want nothing to do with his family. The big story is that I got more drunk than my sister at dinner but we managed to convince our mother to sign the papers. In the new year, we’re putting my father in a home. Still not sure how I feel about it. 

The other story is that degenerative diseases have not mellowed my father's harsh criticism of his daughters. We were scolded, compared to each other - which you'd think would have been easy considering who we are but you would be wrong - and generally made to feel like children again. Actually, we were made to feel like moody teenagers which I think is worse than children. Children get gifts and feel no guilt when consuming sugar. Moody teenagers get cash - maybe - and get the left over treats. I can barely process all the sugary foods I used to eat but indulgence is a necessity in my life and my father took that away from me. I could have used some moral support.

James had to work yesterday. I understand that there is crime to deal with other than me but I really didn’t like that my husband – my rock – was called to work on Christmas Day and I didn’t see him until early this morning when he climbed into bed. Of course he has the day off today and I don’t which makes it all so much worse.

This particular combination of people celebrating Christmas together hasn’t happened in about twenty years. It was as uncomfortable and unfamiliar as it sounds. Not bad, not dramatic, just…unfamiliar. I hate unfamiliar; it makes me anxious about what could go wrong instead of just dealing with the disaster that’s right in front of me.

Upon reflection, Christmas was likely fine - compared to the disastrous holidays our family has experienced in the past. I just really dislike the unfamiliar and yesterday was made up of moments of unfamiliarity and yet frustrating familiarity which sent me off balance - which is clearly something I am ill-equipped to handle without the help of someone or something.

And now I’m sitting at work, bored out of my mind because there’s nothing to do but I can’t leave the office for a quick boxing day deal because I’m heading the team of people who get to clean out of the offices and rearrange items for the new year. Lots of busy work for an office of people with nothing better to do. Sounds perfect.

This is going to suck worse than unfamiliar yesterdays.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe