2002-07-27 3:39 a.m. entry wrangling

Fully recovered from Tuesday's food poisoning. We kept some bratwursts in a crock pot full of beer all day yesterday, and Matt brought over a six-pack of Guiness. It was so good. Colin and I are a good fifth of the way through The Fountainhead, I can only go for ten or so pages without stopping with a sore voice. I checked the page numbers, and we're only a seventh of the way through. Oh well, keep on trucking. How in the world that woman wrote a seven-hundred page book so perfectly is beyond me. There is another small contest I am pounding out an entry for, the word limit is a safe 1,800. I think that maybe if I get enough of these short stories under my belt, I can work on a novel. Once I can look back on them and say hey, I have about fifty thousand words under my belt, let's go for it. That's when I'll write the novel. And it will be a short novel, and a bad novel, but there will be more.

Right? That's how it works, right? James just showed up with some stranger and I'm in my pyjamas. I'm supposed to be working on the webpage for the Scottish dancing group but I haven't heard anything from the guy in charge yet. I don't really want to do any work unless they start paying for hosting anyway, they don't want to because they'd already be paying me a little for taking care of the page and they don't want to shell out an extra $10 to keep the popups from invading the universe.

But the head cashier's last day before her vacation is today, and then I'm the head cashier. Isn't that sexy? Without the pay hike, of course. But full-time hours and things to do, so many things to be in charge of. I like to be in charge. Plus I get to order around this guy at work who is usually on the sales floor. He gives me nothing but attitude but this week they're making him cashier because there won't be enough otherwise. I'll tell him to give the pit a good cleaning every night, I think. Or maybe to wrap the extra hangers before I get in. Yeah, that'll teach him to give me lip.