Detective Watts: The man of a single expression, came over again last night. I don’t like it. It’s too convenient. I tried to let it go but I don’t trust the friendship that has suddenly developed between him and my husband.
James says I’m being paranoid and that he’ll keep an eye out but he’s “pretty sure he knows Gary well enough to trust him.” I don’t know if I trust him.
Maybe I’m just a selfish monster.
But over the years, I’ve learned to trust my instincts. If something’s not right, I run. And right now I want to get the hell out of here. James calls me a Jackrabbit.
For other reasons but I know when there’s danger and I know when to move. I’m worried. And I don’t get worried. I get strategic. Sometimes I flail and panic when I get strategic, true. When it comes to liars and dangerous situations, I know what I’m talking about.
It’s also quite frustrating when people don’t listen to me or believe me. Especially on a subject I have years of experience in.
Speaking of which: there’s a new guy at work and I already want to kill him. I have never heard such passively sexist bullshit from one person before. Everyone woman – regardless of age – is “little lady” like we’re down at his ranch. He holds the door for everyone which is…nice. But he always lingers a little too long on the women. Now, I am a poor feminist at best, but it comes back to what I was talking about: instinct. If something doesn’t feel right, get out.
Or in this case: get him out.
I’m debating between killing him and getting him fired. Both would be satisfying, just in different ways.
I am trying to use some self-control when it comes to the people in my immediate circle. No more killing coworkers unless they really deserve it.
We’ll have to wait and see if our resident “rancher” deserves it.
As always, dear readers,