I hate soccer. Jeebus. I have turned into one of those old women I used to pity in my youth. You know, ah, how cute she's out there playing, but, seriously, she needs to get the fuck off the field. I could not run yesterday. Everything hurt. My touch was off. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
I hate not knowing what I am doing at work. Archaeology is generally fascinating. Be that as it may, every once in a while a pile of utterly uninspiring artifacts from The Land of the Prehistoric People Who Couldn't Make a Decent Looking Stone Tool to Save their Sorry Asses (yes, Phoenix, I am talking about you) lands on my desk and I start to question my career choice. Great things appear to be expected, and I am certain I cannot deliver on this occasion. I am certain I must curl up into a ball under my desk and cry.
I hate... well, that sums it for now. Here's hoping for a Tuesday Love edition tomorrow.