Nightmare

Evening. My breath smells rather pleasant, clean. I've had a stomachache for about a week now, no doubt induced by the major purveyors of chicken- beast themselves. Oh how I hate the squalid hole formerly known as Kentucky Fried Chicken. I also hate the assistant manager for trying to give my expensive ski gloves I left in the office to a co-worker.

They wouldn't have fit him anyway.

I have small hands.

I'm slightly annoyed I have the resolve to type out a blog but not to actually do my Psychology coursework, in for tomorrow. I'm growing ever more annoyed remembering that the time I would be using to do it tomorrow has been replaced with an Action Zambia fundraiser.

Nightmare.