Dear Diary

Got a really cool bistro table today for 55 bucks. It was the Ashmont. Normally 220 dollars. It had some swirly scratches on the table top. 75 percent off. The lady who returned it said that it was that way when she took it out of the box. What a liar. More than likely she scratched it all up when she was putting it together. Anyway, my boss let her return it. So, I bought it at the discount. You can easily cover the scratches up with a big doily or something. I didn’t get my 25 percent discount because it’s an as is product. 55 bucks is still a really good price for it, even if it is scratched.

Getting the table was the highlight of the work day. The rest of it was just odd. It seemed like everything was out of kilter. One of those days where you feel like you’re in the Twilight Zone. I wasn’t even drugged up on sinus medicine or hungover or anything. I kept wondering, “What is wrong with me”? Every time that I listened to myself talk, it sounded like nothing that I was saying made any sense. That happens to me every once in a blue moon. Must be some biorhythm thing. IDK.

I ate at Sonic tonight. I haven’t been there in a while. I wanted to try that pretzel hotdog, but opted for the footlong instead. Maybe I’ll get it next time. Or maybe I’ll never get it.


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