I don't know, I just was late. It just kinda, my whole morning was delayed. But I got there. I worked in the candyshoppe. I seem to have a dyslexia with reading numbers. The price would be $10.33 and I would read $8.54. Or it would be 9.01 and I would read 9.02 Then yell "I MEAN ONE, 9.02. I MEAN ONE, 9.02. Nine......oh one." And it was embarassing, because it happened constantly. And it made it really hard to get and give change =/.
It would appear I have the makings of the same red, bumpy rash as always, on the RIGHT side of my face this time. Oh, the ridiculousness of life.
I begged and begged to leave work early today. Because I got it in my mind this morning I wasn't working till six. I would only work till three or four, and then I settled on three. So by three I was shaking and it didn't help Comcast was there, they brought 10,000 redneck annoyances. I **** you not. 10,000. I know, because more than 4/5 of customers had the catering gold sticker and nametag on. I was ready to tear my hair out. Though I hate them only as much as the average customer. It was just a high stress day. I think it's prolly cause they seemed to think, 'It's our day, we're here on discount. This is nearly a work trip! I deserve amazing service and to be waited on.' And that's not gonna happen for $7.25 before taxes. Oh, and appreciate your damn candy person when they cut your fudge for you. You try to ******* estimate how much "A quarter pound" is when you're brand new to it and the pressures on because a quarter pound is $3.00. I'm never even close.
It just donned on me that my rash may be from change. Nickel, or some ****. I recall moving over to only "sensitive" earrings as a child, the others infected my ears. And we took a longass time finding titanium belly rings. The ****** ones even sometimes lie and it's not pure titanium. I know, I broke out in rashes all over my stomach. I thought it was going to need to be cut out of my body. But it's appeared after I work for a while now. I work as a cashier.
I got out before four. I didn't eat a thing, not even a nonpariel, all day. By the time candy seemed like a good breakfast, it was too busy to have any.So I got home starving. Ate rice, then Steve came over. We watched Step Brothers. Had popcorn, hot chocolate, mac and cheese, and I'm now drinking grape juice. Watched some of Walle. My ferrets are both so sleepy. My sheets finally got washed. So did there's.
The way 11:11 works; the way I never told anyone. I'm really ******* wierd about my clocks and time. Numbers, really, like I said before. But clocks in particular. You can wish at 11:11. But you need to keep your eyes open, completely. You may not continue to wish while you blink. Or it doesn't count. Keep it quick, wish everything that pops into your head. This isn't a one wish thing, you'll feel guilty if you don't get everything in and make it half prayer sounding. Then, if you're still speaking the very moment the clock turns, it will not come true. If you're not, it will. I don't know where I got all these things from, since I was only told the basic idea as a child, and a few months later I was told "hahaha, I was just kidding, did you really think the clock could grant wishes?"
Because I'm now a legal car owner, I, myself, do not have to hold my breathe when driving past a graveyard. Even when I'm not driving. I've been holding my breathe for probably ten years, even every morning when we pass it on the way to school, and then on the way home in the afternoon. It's been so compulsive, I don't know why I couldn't not do it. I don't know why I feel differently now.
Since I started telling time, again, about ten or eleven years ago, whenever the clock is at :59 I need to think in my head, for example, "9:59 next is 10:00 o clock. 9:59 next is 10:00 o clock. 9:59 next is 10:00 o clock." I can't not, I can't not do it. I don't catch it as often as I used to. But when I wore a watch, I was constantly doing it. I need to say it as many times as I can, as fast as I can. And I used to time it, I have an average of 60 times per 60 seconds. It used to be every hour. All night, all day. And when my watch beeped, and I had missed it, I just a stab of guilt. Why hadn't I seen it coming? It happened every day, after all.
And I've never told a soul that. I don't need to be labeled compulsive, on top of everything. I never said a word. Everyone knows I'm a disaster at math. And my best friend was the one to figure out Synesthesia and that I had it. With numbers and letters. And that's prolly why I read them incorrectly. They're color coated. And I don't know. I used to spell my friends' names in colors. Just cause. Not like I'd ever do **** about it. I just like to understand things. I'm a medical disaster. A medical nightmare, if you please.
Suppose that's it. I'm refraining from sticking my fingers in my eyes. It's become harder, since I decided I should wash my hands first. I'm such an idiot.