April 19, 2009
Raw skin
All the scrubbing in the world can't rid me of this dreadful Panera stench. I can't even describe it. I do not smell like bread. Maybe soup? But I didn't even work the soup station today! Want a terrible smell, soaked not only in my clothing, but also into my skin. Blah!
Sometimes I am ashamed of my mouth. I do not by any means have a potty mouth, but words you could not have paid me to say a year ago now pass through my lips freely and on my own accord. How things change!
Where's the romance? I grow weary of waiting for my King...
"But wouldn't that make a wonderful story?"
scullerymaid at 10:38 p.m.