Typing, Who Cares
I had a post prepared for today, but I couldn't be bothered to type it. I wrote it on paper. Stupid! Never write anything on paper! Who did I imagine would type it for me - my secretary? I don't have a secretary! I used to have a secretary, but I sacked her when she developed tinnitus and a chronic nose whistle. Also, she refused to leave my office and she grew increasingly intractable as the weeks wore on. "Go fetch me a coffee," I'd say. "I would prefer not to," she'd say. Fuh?! She'd prefer not to! "Type this crap I wrote," I'd say. "I'd prefer not to," she'd reply. Fucking hell, she wouldn't do her assigned work and she wouldn't leave the office! Eventually I relocated to a new office and left her behind at the old office. Fucking mare's nest. She died in prison. Starved to death - which is, funnily enough, how I'll die if I don't hire a cook. I had to sack my old cook because she wouldn't leave the kitchen and she wouldn't cook me dinner. "Cook me some damn ribs," I'd shriek. "I would prefer not to," she'd roar. Eventually I had to move house to escape her. Pity. She died in prison also.