Married Women Are Cunts
If you were reading last night, you will be aware that I am a victim of a payroll catastrophe. I have managed to make a packet of 10 fags I bought on Monday last until now, I have walked to and from work passing through some of Glasgow's crime black spots unscathed. Today I ate dry toast for lunch and Heinz lentil soup for dinner. I have blisters on my feet, I am fucking tense and I have been forced to drink tap water- yuck.
So you will appreciate how fucking furious I was when the boss popped in to offer her apologies for the payroll disaster and one of my colleagues said 'Oh there's no hurry, I never spend my wages, I just live off my husband's money'. I could have killed her. I should have killed her. Instead I explained, surprisingly calmly that my wages were my only source of income and as such I'd rather like to be paid. Not so that I can buy anything fancy, like Beatrix Potter figurines but stuff like fags, wine, food the odd fucking bus ticket. Jesus Christ I have a letter in my handbag I can't afford to post and I am expected to listen to that suburban whore cum housekeeper brag about her 2nd income. I am furious.
The real test comes tomorrow. A whole day without fags for only the second time in fifteen years. I never want to feel the way I did before I started smoking. It was awful, the terrible nerves and never knowing where to put your hands. I love the gaspers. Perhaps my colleague's husband will buy me twenty to keep me going.