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Where She Tells of Her Exile : 07.09.03 @ 9:59 am I had the distinct impression that the old man in the white t-shirt was mocking me. The librarian came by and opened the door. I quickly signed up for a computer, before the morning rush could get it, and sat down to check my email. Cox would not let me check my email, but I'm not too bothered with that fact because it's probably all junk mail anyway. Not much has happened since I was forcibly exiled from the computer at home, being unable to do anything after Windows boots up. Because of this, I have little to say but I feel obligated to jot down a quick note to let people know that yes, yours truly is still alive.
I've been working almost every day, evenings mostly. My new manager is a moron, but he did say that I was good on the bar, so I can't completely hate him unlike my co-workers who have started the "I hate N____ Club."
But like I've said, nothing much has happened. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. The water was aged, de-chlorinated and at room temperature (which is around 77F). The fish was fed daily, not too much, not too little. This happened to my other fish, Frida, as well. A month after living in the one gallon bowl, he was found dead. I think I know what I was doing wrong (both times), but I don't know if I want to risk killing another Betta. The most irritating thing about getting a haircut is how little bits of hair get down my back between my skin and my shirt. If this is itchy and irritating, can you imagine those poor fools that tried to clense their souls through the ingenius use of hair shirts? Any spelling errors are due to the fact that I do not have a place to spell check this entry like I normally do. I love you all. Someone call me, I'm lonely and have minutes to eat up on my cell phone. /A P.S. Oh, I forgot one more thing that happened since my computer went to hell. Kate came to visit. We went to DC. The American History Museum is boring. More later, I have four minutes left till my time on this computer is up.
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