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08 February 1979 @ 02:11 pm
 
Work is dull, as per usual, but it’s especially dull after a weekend full of drunken carousing. Unfortunately, none of my esteemed customers are content to let me wallow in these doldrums properly. They all insist on loitering around the counter and boring me with Quidditch talk. I now loathe Quidditch fans even more, which I honestly didn’t think was possible. My own capacity for complete and utter revulsion is a constant surprise.

I also didn’t realise that Quidditch supplies could be trussed up for Valentines Day. Rest assured, though, they can. Actually, the whole Alley is looking appropriately tarty. It’s as if an army of fourteen-year-old girls swept in during the night and vomited pink streamers and cheap heart cutouts everywhere. There is an overabundance of cheap chocolate, though, which is tolerable (that reminds me, I ought to send Patty some so she doesn’t end up feeling depressed).

Lastly, my flatmate left for Aruba this morning. I don’t know why (it’s a bloody mystery, actually. What the fuck do matronly old witches need in Aruba?) but I do know that I will be spreading out my star charts tonight and no one will be around to whinge about it. Ha ha.
 
 
 
Marlene McKinnon: a rarity.anticlaw on September 9th, 2007 04:28 am (UTC)
Well, thank god for small favours.