September 23rd, 1982
Overload at work. Here we go again. Coming home from the office a wreck. I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job.
□ Oh, shut up bitch. You love your job, Miss Thing. Flipping around your grand office being Madame Boss.
□ □ It’s true, but I can’t control this despair, this fatigue.
□ You just watch me bitch. Shall I faint and pull at my hair and be taken to a sanitorium in the country?
Top dog rears up on high heels and decides to run the show.