begin.

One more hour.
No, 59 minutes
more.

I was supposed to go apply for the job, come home and get the resume and make up and change my dress and walk in there and really-wow-them.

I created a blog instead.

He would not be pleased. Maybe I still have time... (57 minutes) He'll ask later and if I don't go, I will lie. Or risk that tone in his voice that makes me feel like a scolded child--makes me a scolded child. I should go, but I have so much to say.

The internet will wait I suppose, it has waited this long. What's another job application and 8-hour button-pushing shift between old friends. It will have to be enough to say that I want to tell you.

(54 minutes)